


Brother's Role

by leoraine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-12
Updated: 2011-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoraine/pseuds/leoraine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hunt, few ghosts and a serious role reversal. All in all, it wasn't the best day in Dean's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This chapter was not beta-read  
> Spoilers: Story is set right after Scarecrow

It really looked like a simple thing. Several people of the Crystle town reported sightings in the forrest surrounding the town. Nobody took it seriously, until a group of teenagers got hurt. It wasn´t really the work of the spirits – two of the teens fell down the hill side while trying to ran away from whatever was chasing them.

But the act triggered the spirits into more drastic actions. As if trying to claim the forrest, they bothered every camper or hunter that entered their territory. Suddenly the woods weren´t safe anymore.

Dean and Sam just re-joined after the scarecrow incident, both glad that they´re together again, when the phone rang. Dean looked at the ID of the caller and nervously opened the phone, seeing it was their father.

„Dad?"

But there was nothing on the other end, only static. Grimacing, Dean pulled the phone from his ear and looked at the display. They had another set of coordinates.

This time Sam didn´t argue with him. It wasn´t like they had any other chance to find their father – but both realised that splitting up under these circumstances – hunting solo – may prove fatal for one or both of them. They needed each other more than they could imagine.

So they headed into Crystle town, a small town of one hundred forty population. As Sam said later, everybody knew each other, just as well as everybody knew that they were strangers.

Still, it wasn´t hard to get some info about the spirits in the forrest. Last night, two men were hurt. Something just started throwing them at the trees, much like a kid would with a ball, watching how it will bounce back. Only humans weren´t created for the purpose of being tossed around, slamming into hard unmoving objects like trees. The two men were just walking through the forrest, not even stopping for a camp or doing some juvenile prank that would draw the attention of a spirit. They only wanted to get to the river, not ten miles away from the town, when they were attacked.

One sported an average concussion with several broken ribs, the other was laying in coma in the nearest hospital.

Dean and Sam got the needed information pretty quickly, but it was already getting dark and neither of them wanted to risk a confrontation in the dark. They found a motel and while Dean prepared the guns, Sam roamed the net, looking for anything significant that happened in the last few months when the first attack happened.

„It looks like our ordinary angry spirit, Sammy," Dean said back then and Sam agreed. He was reading around the net, frowning.

„But maybe they weren´t as angry before," he mumbled and started typing some notes.

„What?" Dean looked up from preparing his belowed shotgun, loading it with rock salt.

„Just that there were sightings before, but nothing violent. I am on some web site that concentrates on the paranormal in this location – well, Crystle town and all the other cities in a two hundred miles wide circle, to be more exact," Sam said and looked at his brother, feeling a little twinge seeing the shotgun and the rock salt in his hand. The memories weren´t as easy to push back and even though they made some sort of peace, deciding not to split up at least until they found their father and the thing that killed Jessica and their mother, there was still some tension left from the Rockford asylum.

„Okay, what do we know about the spirits?" Dean asked and resumed his work.

„Well, as far as I can tell, everyone reported seeing several of those things and some of them even heard voices, as if the spirits were communicating between each other. While you were so kind and distracted that waitress," Sam said a little sarcastically, and Dean´s mouth turned up in a smile.

„Hey, I just allowed you some time with her sister. What´s wrong about that?"

„Oh, nothing, if you just stayed at that. But I saw you writing down her phone number not two minutes later."

„What can I say? I´m a woman´s magnet," Dean shrugged in false modesty. If not for the gun in his hands, Sam was inclined to throw something at his older brother and wipe that smirk off his face.

„Yeah, sure. Whatever. Well, while you were making friends, I got some really interesting informations. Wanna hear them or would you rather be dreaming about that chick?"

„She is a hot chick," Dean corrected Sam, then nodded. „Shoot."

„Right. Well, her sister told me about a family that moved away two years prior to the first sighting."

„As far as I know, moving away isn´t a reason to start hunting your old town," Dean commented. „Unless they didn´t move out, huh?"

„You´re right. The whole family disappeared. Kevin and Celia Denim along with their twelve year old son Patrick. Their car was found later in the forrest, packed with their belongings. There was a big search, but the only thing they found was a pool of blood inside the car, on the driver´s seat. Some of the towns´people think that they were the first victims of the spirits, but I don´t think so."

„Yeah. If the spirits started killing, they wouldn´t go back to tossing people around. It´s as if a serial killer started pocketing people. So if they´re our angry spirits, why did they wait for two years? What pissed them off now?"

Sam only shrugged. They didn´t have more informations. „Maybe we should check with the sheriff," he suggested, at which Dean groaned, definitely not enthusiastic.

„Right. I saw him earlier. It´s a bulk, twice bigger than me. And he didn´t look much forthcoming."

„Well what do you propose then?"

„Dunno. Maybe I should go into the pub, buy some beers, play some pool. If nothing else, we´ll get some money to pay for the motel."

„Try not to get into the way of someone´s fist," Sammy adviced as Dean retreated. He heard a mumbled curse and shook his head, smiling.

When Dean returned three hours later he was richer of fifty dollars and to Sam´s surprise, still in one piece.

With a proud grin, Dean counted the fifty dollars and put it into his pocket, then crashed in the bed. Sam rolled his eyes, he was already in the bed, the laptop momentarily forgotten on the table, in his hands their father´s journal. His eyebrows rose as Dean looked at him with that glint in his eyes. Sam pushed the journal back and turned, so he was facing his brother.

„You was drinking?" he asked, unapprovingly. Dean snorted.

„I had two beers, that´s all. I can´t really get into a pub and get myself a soda."

„Why not?"

„Hey, do you want to know what I learned or not?"

„Jerk,"

„Ass."

„Okay, spill it. I can see that your head is ready to burst with so much informations."

„Hey!" Dean protested, smashing the pillow at his brother, then quickly regretted it as now he had nothing to lay his head on. Sam grinned at him and made a show of putting the extra pillow behind his back.

„Well? Do you have something or are you just trying to appear smarter than me?"

„Appear? Really, bro´ - I thought you know me better. Of course I am smarter than you, prettier and all in all the best looking man in the family."

Sam snorted.

„Right. Well, it´s not like you have to compete with so many people," he added with a smirk and this time Dean only rolled his eyes, as he had no more pillows within his reach.

„Whatever. I think I know why the spirits got angry now, and where could be their bones."

Sam´s interest peeked, all the joking forgotten.

„So?"

„So," Dean drawled. „While I was trying to get some money from the pool, I heard some talk from behind me. There was a group of older guys, all were hunters. Deer and such," he added. „Uhm, they were discussing what happened the last time and one of them mentioned the Denim family. He said he doubts they ever made it out of the town. As they were talking quite loudly, several other people jumped into the conversation and they started arguing. When it get too loud, the guy decided to leave. I followed him and asked him if we can have a talk."

„And he talked with you? Just how did you manage that?" Sam wondered and almost laughed when he saw Dean longingly look at his jacket pocket where he stashed the money.

„Let´s just say I won a little more than fifty bucks."

„Okay, what had he told you?"

„He thought he knew what happened to them."

„Huh?"

„The guy said there was another man, Joe Hannings living in a cabin in the forrest,. People thought he was crazy. Had a gun, and several times got caugh shooting deer when it wasn´t allowed. He booby trapped his own cabin. Sometimes, the campers found dead animals – with broken necks, or sliced throats."

Sam grimaced.

„I guess the sheriff of this town is a little more tollerant than you thought, Dean,"

„Nah, not really. He warned the guy, put him behind the bars for several days, but it didn´t the man didn´t do anything to arrest him for, at least there was no evidence. As he kept to his place, most of the people just ignored him."

„Why do you think he had anything with the Denim´s family?"

„Cause he had a gun and their car was found only half a mile from his cabin. Also because the guy I talked to thought so. When they found the car, the cabin was the first place the sheriff searched. Grilled the guy for few weeks, but couldn´t find a thing. Then they dropped the case."

„Well, if he had something to do with their deaths, why hadn´t they started to haunt the town sooner?"

„Because six months ago, that man was found dead in his own cabin. By all means, he killed himself."

„Still-" Sam argued, but Dean´s raised hand stopped him in mid sentence.

„They found something like last note. It wasn´t an admission or anything, thought it looked like one. I think the spirits of the Denim´s family was haunting him until his last breath. When he killed himself though, they still couldn´t find the rest, because nobody found their bodies. So they started to haunt the people who came near the place they died or where their bones were. You know, maybe they´re just trying to get the attention, so they could go back to rest."

„Okay, I think this is quite a stretch. Do you have anything else to prove this or only the words of some guy you had to pay for the info?"

Dean looked almost offended, then shrugged, closing his eyes.

„I at least have a theory. You´re the one who should prove the facts. Next thing in the morning, I´m going to talk with the sheriff. And you should try to get those puppy dog eyes of yours into use and get more info from that chick at the restaurant."

„Hey, she´s not a chick!" Sam protested.

„Right, her sister is a chick," Dean grinned. „Nevermind, you go and talk with the girl. I´m gonna get some shut eye. It´s late." Lazily, Dean pulled down his shirt and pants, the socks and shoes ending under the bed.

„Night, Sammy," he mumbled, eyes closed. Before Sam could protest the use of his nickname, Dean turned his back on his brother and gave a soft snore.

„Right," Sam rolled his eyes, knowing that Dean only pretended to be asleep. His brother never snored. „Night, Dean," he replied and turned off the big lights, leaving on the small reading lamp next to his bed. He wanted to do some more reading, not really looking forward to sleeping, the nightmares still lurking in the darkness.

xxxx

Next day the brothers parted, each of them going their own way. Dean after the sheriff, Sam into the restaurant where a certain girl had a crush on him, as Dean commented the last night.

Introducing himself as a reporter from some rather obscure magazine, Dean had a short talk with the sheriff. He didn´t get much, but he learned enough to know the exact location of the cabin, as well as the place where they found the car belonging to the Denim family. There were few theories about what the old Joe Hannings did with the bodies, from burying them in his own cabin, to eating them and disposing of the bones in the woods. Whatever was the truth, Dean knew the cabin was the first place they should look.

„Did you do a thorough search of the cabin?" he asked the sheriff, already on his way out.

„Of course we did. From top to bottom, but we couldn´t find a thing," the sheriff sighed, then shook his head. „I know the bodies are somewhere near – I saw it in that bastard´s eyes. But he hid them well, and knew we won´t find them easily – he was too sure of himself. I even let some boys dig around the house. Turned up with several dead animals and a rusty bike. But nothing from the Denim´s."

„Then how can you be so sure that he was responsible for their disappearance?"

The sheriff looked at Dean, his fingers thumping at the table in some unknown rhytm.

„Joe left behind a note. He wasn´t in the right mind when he killed himself, that was for sure."

„What was in the note?" Dean asked, curious.

„Just gibberish. About angry spirits, haunting dreams, dead animals talking to him. Stuff that would´ve put him in straightjacket, if he had spoken about it loudly."

„Did he write something about actually killing them?"

„He mentioned shooting at some ghosts. Our doc things it was a display of his bad consciousness, but he also thinks that Joe was a schizophrenic. The road the family was driving through is only half a mile from Hanning´s cabin. When we found the car, it had a broken headlight and a bump on the hood. There was some blood and hair. I sent it to the lab in Fedderson city. They said it was an animal, probably a roe. Who knows, maybe Hannings was out on the hunt. He could´ve startled the roe and it ran out to the road, right into the car. The Denim´s stopped, get out to check the damage and that´s when Hannings attacked. We won´t know the reasons, and until we won´t find the bodies, we won´t even know if it was a murder."

The sheriff shrugged. He obviously invested some time into the case, but now he seemed tired of it. Nothing new, Dean thought. After all, the Denim´s didn´t had any family to be looking for them, no one to ask nagging questions after so many years. And because the suspect was already dead, there was literally no case for the sheriff.

„Did he write this into the letter?"

„Some. Most of it is only speculations, based on the evidence."

„Do you have any idea where the bodies could be?"

„Take your guess," the sheriff said with a smirk, „it´s as good as mine."

„Right," Dean mumbled with a slight shake of his head and left, hoping that Sammy had more luck.

xxxx

After a short phone call, they met up in their room rather than before the restaurant. Sam didn´t tell him anything specific through the cell, but he did suggest that they should prepare for a trip to the woods. Dean already had it planned, now he just needed to know exactly what had Sammy found out so they could get their facts straight and evade any mistakes.

„Anything useful, little bro?" he started even before Sam closed the door to their room.

„Don´t know if it´s useful but I got a phone number and an invitation to the tonight's horror movie," Sam said and scowled at Dean when he gave him an appraising grin.

„That´s my boy," he smiled proudly and Sam rolled his eyes.

„Sorry, nothing new. Shelly told me a name of the two boys that saw something near Hanning´s cabin. I met with one of them, an eighteen year old teenager. He knew the Denim´s boy from before. When he saw him now, it spooked him out and he ran. Now that he had some time to think it through, he told me that the boy looked as if he was asking him to follow. Not threatening or throwing against trees."

„When was that?"

„Few months. It was before the real attacks started."

„See? We could have several other similar sightings. Maybe the kid got pissed that nobody followed him and tried to get the attention some other way."

„Yeah well, we´ll find out soon enough."

„True. Now tell me about Shelly, huh?"

Dean´s grin didn´t falter when his younger brother smacked him, and he still had it when they left the motel room and get into the car.

xxxxxxxxx

„And I thought they said that the cabin is only half a mile from the road," Sam muttered as they made their hike through the bushes, the shotgun loaded with rock salt in one hand, the plan of the area in the other.

„Yeah well, it´s not like there´s a sign „Joe Hannigan´s cabin – ghosthunters to the left, tourists to the right," Dean mocked and stopped. Sam frowned at his brother´s back, then walked to his side.

„Watcha looking at, Dean?" he asked after a minute of silence.

„Dunno. You´re not getting any weird vibes?"

When Sam looked at him with raised eyebrows, Dean tilted his head, then sighed.

„Nevermind. Just keep your eyes open."

„Anything specific?"

„You see something moving, you shoot it."

„Isn´t it a little excessive?"

„You enjoy being thrown around?"

Sam shook his head.

„Then do what I say."

„Yes sir," Sam mumbled and for a second Dean felt as if they were back in the asylum. The words his brother shouted at him came to his mind and he swalloved.

„I´m not bossing you around, Sammy. Just want to keep us in one piece," Dean muttered, not really sure if Sam heard it or not. But a pat on the shoulder was an answer enough.

„I really doubt there´ll be anyone after the last attacks, anyway," Dean added for the good of it.

Few minutes of walk later and both brothers stood before a rather abandoned cabin. The wood seemed to be rotten, one of the windows was broken and the porch looked as if someone tried to burn it. Definitely not a nice place to live at or even sleep in for few nights.

„Think it looked like this even while Hannings was alive?" Sam asked spontaneously.

„Probably," Dean replied, paying more attention to the EMF detector, frowning at the low readings. „Damn it, I thought it would be much stronger here," he muttered and started walking around the cabin, not letting his eyes from the monitor. Sam followed him, paying more attention to their surroundings.

„There´s nothing," Dean said frustrated when they checked around the cabin. „If he´d killed them here..."

„Maybe he didn´t. The sheriff told you that they already digged in here. If they didn´t found anything, there probably is nothing to find."

„Just our luck. Old Hannings could´ve been a schizophrenic but he sure wasn´t stupid enough to bury his victims under his porch." Dean shook his head and grimaced, his look pausing at the cabin.

„Okay, it´s time to go inside."

xxxx

Sam didn´t protest but that didn´t mean he liked it. Walking through the door wasn´t an easy thing to do. The smell of decay hit your nose the second you took a step inside. Scrunching his face, Sam reached up with his hand and tried to protect his nose, while his other hand waved around him, dispersing a squadron of flies.

„What the hell is that?" he asked, his voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Dean only shrugged, not covering his nose and mouth, hesitant to put either the EMF or the shotgun away. So instead he started breathing in through his mouth, and praying away the tears. The smell was stinging, but it wasn´t a smell of decomposing corpses. As Dean´s eyes trailed around the interrier of the cabin, he quickly localized the source. Someone visited the cabin not so long ago – and that person didn´t care that outside stood an outhouse.

„Crap," Dean grumbled, turning away from the disgusting pile that covered half the room.

„Exactly," Sam added and shook his head. „Do you get anything?" he asked his brother, yearning for the fresh air outside.

„Nah, the readings are low. I wonder if Hannings died here or somewhere else. Seems to me there´s not much activity."

There wasn´t really much of anything, Dean thought, well besides the flies and the smell. There was a small kitchen, but it was too dirty to even consider bringing there some kind of food, not to mention cooking. Dean didn´t find the courage to open the doors of the fridge. The main room had a small fireplace, two uncomfortably looking chairs, a table with one cracked leg and an old dusty couch. Sometimes in the past, there was also a TV, as Dean found a several old issues of TV guide. Other than that, the cabin was empty. No personal properties, not even an animal trophy hanging from the wall.

„Okay Sammy, we´re leaving."

No sooner did Dean finish the sentence, when Sam pushed open the door and practically stumbled onto the porch. Once seeing Dean emerge from the cabin with the same haste, Sam walked up to the nearest tree, taking in gulps of fresh air as if he just emerged from under water. Dean was doing the same.

„That was... shit," Sam shook his head, disgusted.

„My words, Sammy," Dean agreed and straightened out. His younger brother was still bent over, fighting off the nausea, when Dean´s hair on the back of his neck stood at attention. He tensed, the stench of the cabin forgotten.

Sam sensed his brother tensing and he quickly looked around, his eyes narrowed.

„Dean?" it was more like a whisper and both brothers were preparing themselves for the attack, but it didn´t come.

„Saw something to the left," Dean replied in same hushed voice, the shotgun raised and ready to use, when the EMF detector picked up its tune, disturbing them.

„Well, something´s definitely near."

As if hearing it, a small form appeared in the bushes. Dean´s finger tightened around the trigger, but Sam´s restraining hand stopped him.

„No, it´s the kid," Sam whispered in haste and took a step towards the misty figure. Dean internally cursed and followed his brother, their moves slow and careful. The boy didn´t step back, only watched the approaching duo and they could see the contures of the child´s face. The boy looked younger than what the sheriff told them, but then again, Dean himself didn´t look older when he was ten. He was watching them with huge dark eyes, and Dean was getting nervous of the unblinking stare. His steps faltered as they get into the close proximity of the boy, the EMF gave a high pitched sound, startling them all. The boy blinked for the first time.

„Follow me," he said, then turned and was gone.

„What the hell?" Dean cursed, but not sooner did he do that than Sam started out. „Damn it, Sammy!" he shouted after his long legged brother, realizing that he was likely to fall behind, because as much as Sam was better at the school stuff, he was also the fastest runner in the Winchester family.

Sam heard his brother, but wasn´t about to slow down. The boy was fast, he already lost him several times, then when he wanted to stop himself, he spotted him peeking from behind a tree. Sam only hoped that the boy wasn´t leading them into a trap and that Dean was close behind him, because he didn´t dare to look around in search of his brother, the image of the boy too easily lost in the bushes.

Dean had some trouble keeping up. He felt the dull pain in his chest resurfacing, but knew well enough that this wasn´t a good time to start complain, so he gritted his teeth and tried not losing his brother from sight, which was a hard enough task.

He caught up with Sam and gasping for air hesitated if he should first smack his brother or turn off the damned EMF which was now beeping with renewed urgency. Gasping for air, he looked around and realized they were standing on a clearing, not ten yards from another cabin. This one looked to be in perfect state though.

„I think we just found out where are the Denim´s burried," Sam uttered in quiet voice and Dean looked at him, confused.

„See that place where nothing grows?"

He pointed at the other end of the clearing, and Dean saw the hollow ground. It was a square and any comment about bad soil was silenced by the green grass rising from the ground, around the hollow square of earth. Of course, the fact that the boy was standing right there was also quite a good indication.

„Ooookey," Dean drawled out and nervously looked around. „Let´s do it, before the parents realise we´re here," he said and headed for the grave. It was Sam´s hand that stopped him once again, this time though more like a warning than restrain.

„Uh, I think it´s a little late for that, Dean," he said nervously and suddenly, Dean saw the reason behind it standing three feets from his own face, frowning.

The mother appeared at the grave, putting one arm on the boy's shoulder. He looked up at her and smiled. Dean couldn´t but feel a twinge of envy, seeing the mother and son together. There were times, when he was just a little kid, when he thought it would´ve been better if he´d died with his mom, that then they would´ve been together. But every thought of dying evaporated once he laid his eyes on his baby brother, crawling on the floor, or sleeping.

„Dean?" he heard Sammy speak and was unsure what to do. If it was just an average angry spirit, it would´ve been easy. He would probably empty the shotgun, Sammy would recite the binding spell that would buy them the time needed to dig out the bones. But now, knowing that the man had a right to be angry, that he was only protecting his family, it was harder to attack. And what if they didn´t need to do it forcibly? After all, the boy brought them here himself.

„We´re just trying to help. Let us do our job, and we´ll end this."

Sam blinked in surprise, hearing his brother speak those words, because in truth he was anticipating the booming sound of the shotgun. The spirit of the father looked a little surprised himself, but it didn´t take too long.

„No!" the apparition growled and in the next second, Dean was laying flat on his back some six yards farther.

„Dean!" Sam ran to his brother´s help, kneeling down. His heart beat fast, but he couldn´t stop the sigh of relief when Dean blinked his eyes open and grimaced.

„Guess he´s a little pissed," he grunted as he tried to get up, cringing. Sam threw him a concerned look, but still helped him up.

„You think so?" came the sarcastic reply, when the spirit gave an angry scream and both brothers felt themselves being lifted in the air, and they stayed here, as if pinned to some unseen wall.

„Next time, shoot," Sam mumbled and Dean only grunted. He had a hard time to speak, to move or simply to take a breath. The spirit of the father was looming over them, his face scrunched in a grimace of rage and pain. And when Dean saw his eyes, he was sure they were as good as dead. He knew that look, saw it in the eyes of his own father, when the man found another trail of the thing that killed their mother. It was a look of a possessed man.

„We... only want... to help," Sam stuttered, not getting enough air himself.

„No one will take my family, ever again," the spirit hissed, and Sam shivered.

„We didn´t... kill you. It was... Joe Hannings," Dean said, fighting hard against the unseen bounds, the fear for his brother pumping adrenaline through his body.

„I know," the spirit looked at Dean with glee. „I took care of him. As I shall take care of you. I won´t let you harm my family."

It was then that Dean looked away from the father, at the little boy and his mother. He saw the scared look on his face and knew that the boy wanted them to help, to stop what had become of his father.

„You´re the only one... hurting your family!" he shouted, the edges of his vision already darkening from the lack of oxygen. „Don´t you see... he´s afraid of you? Of what you´d become?"

There was no reaction and Dean thought he lost. One look at his brother told him Sammy was probably unconscious and he too was losing the fight.

„Daddy?" It was the tiny boy who spoke and for the first time, Dean felt the unseen fingers around his neck loosen their grip a little. „Please... let us go."

Dean blinked as much in surprise as in struggle to keep conscious. He couldn´t help but feel relief vashing over his body, as he saw the crumbled face of the father. Not sooner did he see it as the man released them from his grip and turned away.

Dean fell with a thud and for a minute only gulped in the air, feeling the pressure in his chest abate, his vision clearing. The moan from his right brought him to his knees.

„Sammy? You okay?"

Sam coughed, one hand reaching for his brother.

„Yeah," he croaked and regarded Dean with concern. „You?"

„Just peachy," Dean replied with a grin.

„What-"

„Later. First we need to dig out the bones, before the father changes his mind. Nothing broken?" Dean quickly checked, assured when Sam batted away his hands with a grunt.

„Nope. I´m fine. Where are-"

„At the grave," Dean replied but knew it wasn´t true even before he turned. The clearing was as empty as it was when they arrived. With a sigh, he helped Sam up and together they shuffled toward the grave, on their way picking up the shovel that Sam didn´t let out of his hands even when they were running.

„Okay, bro´. I think this is our green light to start the dig." With that, Dean burrowed the shovel into the ground.

xxxx

He should´ve know it won´t be so easy. With each piece of bone uncovered, the creeping feeling intensified and Dean couldn´t stop looking behind himself. Sam quickly recognized his brother´s nervousness and it didn´t make him any calmer. They quickened their pace and had the bones uncovered in record time.

As Sammy mumbled the spells that should allow the spirits to finish their road to the other side, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a little cannister with gasoline. His hand faltered when he sprayed the bones, and it was impossibly hard to use the lighter. He felt the beads of sweat running down his back and could feel the watching eyes.

Still, he took a piece of paper, held it above the lighter then let it fall from his hands, right onto the waiting bones. The fire started instantly.

The face of the young boy appearing in the midst of the flames, held in the arms of his mother almost set him off, but looking at his brother, he realised that Sammy didn´t see them. For a second he wondered where was the father, but when the flames flickered, he could see the shadow approaching the waiting duo and encircling them protectively with his arms.

The wind took up and the sky darkened but it was nothing paranormal – just a sign that the light of the day was dying away. Dean knew they should leave before the night fell, but he couldn´t force his body to move. He felt the need to stay, until the last piece of bone turned into ashes, so they could bury it in salt and definitely end the journey of the family.

He didn´t know why the sudden empathy. Under any normal circumstances, Dean was the first to shoot. Trying to talk down the spirit wasn´t his style.

Maybe he was just tired. He felt the throbbing in his chest and wasn´t quite sure if it was caused by his last flight across the clearing or if it was a distant reminder of the not so long past encounter with Dr. Ellicot and the load of rock salt provided by his own brother Sam.

Well, maybe it had more to do with the nightmares that troubled both brothers, so none of them got much sleep. But they didn´t talk about it and even though Sam tried, Dean always stopped him. In the end, they put it aside, knowing that there was no time to deal with it - there were people needing help, there was a father to find and a monster to kill. Maybe once in the future they could sit down, drinking cold beer and under the nightsky full of stars tell each other everything they wanted.

But this wasn´t the right time or place. And for once, Dean don´t wanted to be the older brother. He don´t wanted to say it was okay if Sammy pulled the trigger three times, aiming the gun at his face. He don´t wanted to deal with his brother´s guilt, or to accept his apologies while he had still pieces of rock salt embedded in his skin.

Just for once he would like to not feel responsible, to lean at someone, without being afraid of showing weakness. He wished his brother could understand that in all these years Dean was there to protect him and not to hurt him.

He just wished Sam didn´t hate him like he did in the asylum.

xxxx

Sam cleared his throat, the silence and his brother´s stillness making him nervous. Dean wasn´t one to linger in one place but now he seemed hypnotized by the flames that were mirroring in his eyes. Sam swallowed the urge to grab his brother´s arm and pull him out of his stupor, afraid that Dean might unconsciously react and the last thing Sam wanted was to end up on the ground – again.

So they waited till the flames died away and buried the bones in salt. While doing this, the EMF stopped its wild beeping, but there was still some noise and Sam crinkled his eyes.

„Looks like this place has more ghosts than we thought," he mumbled, not sure if Dean even heard him.

„Much more, Sammy. This place is weird."

„Well, then I say we should leave. I don´t know about you, but traipsing the unknown forrest in the dark isn´t my idea of fun. It´s too easy to get lost there."

Dean looked up from the new grave and slowly nodded. He had this absent minded look in his eyes, one that Sam didn´t see too often. What disturbed Sam most was the thin layer of sweat covering Dean´s face.

„Are you okay, Dean?"

„I´m fine," came the casual reply and Sam shook his head in frustration.

„Then let´s go."

Hesitantly, Dean followed in his brother´s footsteps. Only when they lost the clearing from they sight, Dean blinked, as if waking up from a transe. His eyes came back to focus and he shook his head, trying to clear it.

„Yeah, we should go," he mumbled and altered his pace, feeling a great urge to get to his car and as far away from this place as he could.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This chapter was not beta-read

Something was definitely wrong. Even though it was still only five forty in the morning, Sam would´ve thought that his arrival would wake his older brother. Dean was always a light sleeper and the door to the motel room sure screeched a lot when Sam came back with the breakfast. But Dean didn´t even stir. True, it was still dark so Sam didn´t see much of his brother, but at least he was expecting a grumbled: „Where were you?"

Nothing.

Frowning, Sam put down the breakfast.

„Dean?" he asked, and was surprised when a childish voice grumbled in response. His frown only deepened as he heard the rustle of the covers and the content sigh as the occupant found a more comfortable position.

The feeling of foreboding ran through him and Sam quickly reached for the light switch, while his other hand groped for the gun that was in the top drawer.

He turned on the light.

The person lying in the bed squeeked in protest to the harsh awakening and Sam emitted a rather girlish scream.

„Why the hell did you do this for!" the person in the bed shouted, one hand treaming the big knife Dean kept under the pillow, the other rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, while he tried to give Sam his best pissed of glare. But Sam didn´t notice. He could only stare open mouthed, the gun laying limply in his left hand, eyes as wide as ever.

For a moment everything was still, then a hesitant question broke the silence.

„Sammy? What´s wrong?"

„Y-you..." Sam stuttered, finally managing to take control over his shocked body. He treamed the gun and aimed it at the boy on the bed. „Dean?" he asked, first tentatively, then came a more panicked shout. „Dean! Come on, this is a stupid joke!"

The boy on the bed frowned, at first looking confused, then a flash of concern on his face. „Sammy? What´s wrong? I´m right here," he said slowly, thinking that maybe his brother was still in the throws of some nightmare. But it could be a dangerous nightmare, especially if Sam had a gun.

„Come on, Sammy. Put the gun down. It´s all right, it´s me. Dean."

But Sam shook his head and took a faltering step back just as the boy moved towards him, off the bed.

„N-no, you´re not Dean. What did you do with my brother? And how the hell did you get into our room? And why are you wearing his clothes!" the last question was shouted in the same moment as the said boy grabbed for the falling shorts. Looking down in horror, the boy only now spotted the too big t-shirt and shorts. Catching them before Sam could see his naked ass, the boy throw a panicked glance at him, then without a word ran off to the bathroom.

At first, Sam could only stand there, frozen in place, but the scream sent his body into motion. Here in the bathroom, the boy was staring at his face in the mirror, his eyes wide with horror, mouth open so he gave a good impersonation of a fish caught on the shore. The blond locks were haphazardly falling into his face. When he turned, a look of utter confusion in his eyes. And it was that look that convinced Sam that it was truly his brother.

„Dean?"

„S-sammy? W-what..." but he could only stutter, shaking his head and pray that this was indeed just a really bad dream.

„I don´t know," Sam replied, putting the gun away and taking few steps closer to the boy. He had to crouch down to maintain some eye to eye level and he laid his arm on the boy´s shoulder, silently wondering how tiny he looked. He always remembered his brother bigger and stronger, even when he outgrow him. But now he also remembered that until Dean turned twelve, he was always the smaller of the class. „I don´t know, Dean," Sam mumbled as he took in the familiar yet strange face of the child. „But we will make it okay," he whispered and felt the unknown warmth running through his heart and insides. „I promise."

„Okay," the child responded, his voice tiny but strong at the same time. „I trust you, Sammy," Dean Winchester said and totally ignoring that it could be a chick-flick moment, threw his arms around his „younger" brother´s neck.

And all Sam could do was close his eyes and take his „older" brother into a hug, a sudden urge to protect the small boy taking away his breath.

xxxx

It was Dean who broke the chick-flick moment. Pushing away his brother, Dean´s face turned red and he fled to the room. Sam followed him, frowning when the boy started looking through their bags.

„Whatcha looking for, Dean?" he asked and pushed back an urge to laugh. Despite the seriousness of the situation, it wasn´t every day that Sam could watch his older brother rushing through the room half naked, one hand groping at the falling shorts, the other frantically searching for something he could wear. The t-shirt wasn´t the problem, but Dean could really use some pants. Finally realising that there was really no better clothing, he flopped into the chair and glared at Sam, daring him to laugh. Of course, getting that glare from a grown up was totally different to the glare Sam got from the child. So it quite spoiled the effect, when Sam burst out laughing.

„God Dean, try to look a little more intimidating, will you?"

„That´s not funny!" Dean screamed, but the effect was just the same. While before this would´ve managed to shut Sam up in a moment, the childish voice held nothing of the threat.

Dean quickly realized it and groaned.

„Jerk!" he said and Sam stopped laughing, instead he scowled, a twinkle in his eyes.

„You shouldn´t curse, you know. If dad had been there, you would have oh so got it."

Dean´s eyes widened.

„I´m not a damned kid, Sammy! I swear, you treat me like one and I will kick your ass. Now get me the hell back to my body!" As it was, the command came out more as a whine and Dean almost shouted in exasperation when Sam gave him that funny look. Dean frowned, then gulped. He oh so knew that this will be only worse before it gets better. The glint in Sam´s eyes made his stomach turn.

„Now that´s an idea," Sam said slowly, then smiled sweetly at his brother.

„This is not funny, Sam. I want my body back," Dean said and Sam sighed. For a moment he had an absurd feeling that his wishes were granted, that he could be the older brother for once. To boss Dean around, to be able to tell him what to do and what not. But he quickly realised it was stupid to think about Dean as a kid, when in reality, he had a mind of an adult. But still.

„Okay," Sam let out a sigh and slid into the chair opposite Dean, not letting his eyes from the blond head. He didn´t remember his hair being so light, but then, he was maybe four or five when Dean was in that age. „Uhm, how old are you, anyway?"

The little boy frowned and looked at himself, his eyes stopping on his left leg.

„Well, it´s before my tenth birthday, but after my eight. So somewhere in between."

Sam´s eyebrows rose.

„Huh? How can you be so sure?"

„Because when I was eight I cut my hand on the knife while I was practicing. See?" he showed him a scar on his palm. „But as I don´t see the scar on my knee, I probably didn´t fall from that tree yet."

„Wow, you have a scar for each year?" Sam commented in surprise, but the look from Dean stopped him.

„Right. Back to the matter. What made you into this sweet little nine year old, Dean?"

The boy in question rolled his eyes and promised that he will repay Sam for that comment once he´s back into his old self. For now though, he concentrated on the matter at hand.

„Last I remember was my trip to the bathroom sometime in the middle of the night. And I was normal then. You were asleep."

„Nothing else?" Sam looked almost disappointed. „No ghostly encounter? Didn´t you feel some ozone? Sulfur? See something in the mirror?"

Dean only shook his head, getting frustrated himself. Then he shrugged.

„I get back to the bed. Fell asleep almost instantly. Can´t remember anything after that."

„No visions? Nightmares?"

„You´re the psychic," Dean bit back, but then paused, his eyes narrowing.

„Dean?"

„Uhm, not sure. Maybe I had some weird dreams, but..."

„What? Dean, this can be important-"

„I know!" Dean bit back harshly, then stood and started pacing the room, still keeping his shorts from falling, but he needed to move. Needed to do something. This just wasn´t possible, he muttered angrilly. „You think I want to stay like this? But I can´t remember," he said frustrated, and looked at his brother.

Sam was watching the boy pacing, the ridiculously big clothes flapping around. Even though the words and curses coming from Dean where that of an adult, he couldn´t stop but see him as a nine year old kid. With that came the idea that finally he could repay his brother for all the maybe now he could be the big brother and relieve Dean of some of his responsibilites. And maybe they´ll have a chance to finally talk.

„What are you looking at?" the harsh tone brought him to the reality and Sam sighed. Be as be, Dean won´t be easy to handle, however old he was.

„Nothing. Maybe we should get you some clothes, watcha say?"

„I don´t plan on going shopping, Sam!" Dean shouted, and looked as much as a spoiled brat throwing a tantrum that for a moment Sam wondered if he would throw himself at the floor and start a hissy fit. But no, this was still a Winchester, and they didn´t throw hissy fits.

„For that matter, I don´t plan to relive my puberty either!"

„Well, it will take a year or two still," Sam said then flinched as one of his books hit the wall just inches from his face.

„I still know how to use a gun, Sammy," Dean warned him and Sam snorted.

„Look Dean, as far as we know, we won´t be able to return you to your normal age, until we know what the hell happened. That can take some time. I don´t think you plan on staying in this room, so if you don´t want to be shining people outside with your bare backside, you´ll need clothes."

Dean mumbled something incoherent, then nodded.

„Okay. I´ll go out and get you something when they open the shops."

„When did you woke up?" Dean asked, trying to calm down. He knew Sam was right, as well as he knew that whatever happened to him would surely take longer than few minutes to figure out. He just hoped that they will be able to figure it out.

„At five. I left ten minutes later. As far as I can tell, you was still yourself."

Dean nodded then sighed, biting on his lover lip. „So - what? A shapeshifter?"

Sam quipped his head, his eyebrow raised. „That´s not how they work, you know it. I never heard of a shapeshifter that would turn into your younger self – that would kind of erase they whole purpose on staying unnoticed. And no shapeshifter could change you."

„Can´t this be just some body switching then?"

„Like Quantum leap?" Sam asked, dubious. „Don´t think so. You´re still you, Dean. I remember you when we were kids... man, but you sure looked bigger to me," Sam smiled and Dean rolled his eyes.

„I was bigger. For you anyway," he added. „So this is my body. And I am I, at least I think so. Not a possession?"

„Nope," Sam shook his head. They both knew this was nothing they´d dealt with in the past and Dean highly doubted even their father would know what´s going on.

„So what it is? A curse? Voodoo? Or had I found a fountain of youth?"

Sam shrugged.

„Can be anything. I´ll look at the net while they open the shop, and you can get through dad´s journal."

For once, Dean didn´t protest. He grabbed the weared out journal and jumped at the bed, while his brother turned on the laptop and started searching.

xxxx

The moment Sam heard the door close and the lock turn behind him, he headed for the parked Impala. But he didn´t sit behind the wheel straight away, first he pulled out his cell and dialed the memorized number of their father´s cell. He listened to the obligate speech followed by the beep, then shortly retold the events of the last day, asking his father for help. When he finished the call, he put away the cell, knowing that their father won´t reply. But maybe he could send them some clues. Who knew.

Getting behind the wheel felt almost weird and for a second Sam felt the absurd feeling of loss for his older brother. What will happen if they won´t be able to return Dean to his normal self? And was the boy waiting in the motel room really Dean? Even with his memories, Sam wondered if his older brother wasn´t stuck somewhere, waiting for his help.

xxxxxxxxx

Dean watched his brother until the car took off. He knew Sam would call their father, damn, he wanted to call him himself. Wouldn´t it be funny, to see his dad´s face upon hearing his older son´s childish voice? Definitely worth a moment. Dean smirked, then turned away from the window. His face fell along with the pretense of bravery. Because Dean was scared to death. Scared that he´ll stay like this forever, scared that he´ll have to relive some seventeen years of his life, scared that he won´t be able to protect his kid brother Sammy anymore. Scared about the future.

He made his way to the bathroom, secretly hoping that this was just some weird dream brought on by the latest hunt and a bad pizza, but he knew that the dreams never felt this real and didn´t took so long. It was only two hours ago he woke up but it already felt like a week.

„Damn it all to hell," he said to the image in the mirror. „Who are you?" he asked and for a tiny moment, he thought he saw his old self looking back at him. But it was only a flash and Dean blinked, confused. Could it be he was really just an imposter? Or was this all some freaked joke?

He let the tap run and splashed the cold water on his face, his hair getting wet. That was another matter. How could´ve his hair grow so long? He remembered that he had them cut short when he was ten and it took another year till his father allowed him to the first hunt. He looked like a little soldier, but at least he appeared older. Now he realised that the longer hair combined with the small figure made him look like a little kid. Too little for his own liking.

Dean shook his head and turned away from the mirror, angrilly storming to the room and sitting down behind the laptop. His father´s journal held absolutely nothing and Sam couldn´t come up with anything useful either. Sure, there were some fairy tales, plenty of science fiction, and a mention of a fountain of youth. So far, the best they came up with was an excerpt from Edgar Cayce and his writing about Atlantis. He wrote about a Crystal that was supposed to have magical powers. The crystals received energy from a variety of sources, including the Sun and the Earth. If used correctly and by someone experienced, they could heal, teleportate things or do several other crazy stuff. One of them was rejuvenate.

The only problem with this theory was that Dean was nowhere close to Atlantis, and he also didn´t see any crystals, nor did he meet anyone with such powers. And their latest hunt was routine, at least Dean kept telling himself so.

His stomach grumbled and despite the situation, Dean picked up the bag with the breakfast Sam brought earlier. They didn´t touch it and his body was definitely hungry. Peeking in, Dean smirked and snatched one donut. He sipped from the coffee, but put it aside with a grimace. It felt bitter and Dean rather grabbed a soda. He was finishing his second donut when the keys rattled in the lock. Dean frowned, automatically reaching for the gun. He relaxed only when he saw the familiar face.

„You left me something?" Sam asked, seeing the half empty paper bag and the bits of sugar on his brother´s face. Dean quickly licked it off and nodded at the bag in his hands.

„Sure, I left you the bagel." he smirked.

„Cool," Sam replied not so enthusiastically. „Well, why don´t ya get these on, while I eat it?"

Dean suspiciously looked into the bag his brother handed him, then with a shrug left to the bathroom.

„Hope you didn´t spend all the money," Dean shouted as he took out the clothes. He regarded them with a frown. „Hey, you bought this in the second hand or what?"

„Like you said, we need the money," Sam quipped in with a smile that grew wider when he heard Dean mutter: „Jerk!"

„At least I hope the shorts were new," Dean hollered and Sam was tempted to tell him he stole it, but refrained from it, taking a bit of his bagel instead.

Few minutes and a cursing session later a rather smug looking Dean emerged from the bathroom. Sam took in his appearance and felt almost proud that he managed to get the right size of everything.

„Well, you look good," he stated but Dean only snorted in reply. True, he felt better wearing clothes of his size, but still... the shirt had a funny creature on it, probably from some cartoon. And he didn´t even mention the pictures on his shorts. Urgh.

„I am so gonna kill you for this, Sammy," he uttered in low voice but Sam didn´t even flinch.

„Whatever. How are the shoes?"

„Just peachy," Dean grumbled.

„Great. Now if we are finished with the fashion show, we can return to the matter at hand. Did you find something?"

„Probably the lost city of Atlantis," Dean muttered, then shook his head. "Only several mentions of the Fountain of Youth, the Grail and the Philosopher' s stone. Did you know that some people believed that drinking the blood of childrens could keep them young? Urgh,'' Dean shuddered, disgusted by the mere idea. Sam also grimaced. When he was researching it earlier he found more awful practices that people did in the hope to stay alive a little longer, but he didn' t felt the need to apprise Dean about them.

''How about you – any luck?'' Dean asked looking up at Sam. ''Did dad call back?" He instantly cursed himself for the last question, hearing the hope in his own voice.

Sam blinked, then sadly shook his head. „I´m sorry, Dean."

„Hey, no problem. He probably didn´t get the message. It´s only few hours. And anyway, it´s not like I am dying or something. No rush, right?" And then he turned away from his brother, one hand frantically trying to rub the stinging tears out of his eyes. He didn´t understood why he felt so hurt by the simple fact that their father didn´t call back. After all, they were looking for him for the last six months, what would´ve changed? Nothing. But it still hurt and while his feelings weren´t different from the pain he experienced as an adult, he didn´t have such control over his body now.

„Damnit!" he kicked into the wall, changing the tears and despair for anger, because it was much easier to handle.

„Dean. Dean! Come on, it´s gonna be okay," Sam said as he pulled Dean away from the wall and started rubbing at his shoulder in a calming manner. He watched the emotions run across his brother´s face in fascination, never before seeing him so vulnerable.

„Sh, it´s gonna be okay, I promise." he quietly whispered and actually felt when Dean regained controls over himself. His body stiffened, the gasps turning into slow, deep breaths. And the mask was back on his face. Sam silently cursed.

„I´m cool," Dean mumbled, suddenly embarassed and pulled away from his brother. „So... what´s the plan?" he quickly asked, before Sam could start talking about something else, something concerning his own feelings. Dean was not prepared for that kind of a debate as an adult, and he definitely wasn´t prepared for it now.

With a sigh, Sam walked back to the table with the rest of his bagel, while Dean choose to sit on the bed, cross-legged and looking smug.

„I think we should stay around at least for a while. I am planning on going to the library once they open it."

„And find what?"

„Something must be there, Dean. There always is."

Dean looked at his brother with doubt.

„Okay, not always," Sam corrected himself, „but most of the time. Maybe it could be some time field?"

„If I´d thought I am nine year old, then it could be a time travel. But I highly doubt my body decided to jump in time without my mind too."

Sam shrugged, frowning.

„Did something happen to you when you were nine? Something traumatic?"

Dean barely contained the snort. Yeah, as if it wasn´t traumatic enough to see their house beeing consumed by fire, knowing their mother was still inside. Or watch out for his baby brother in some strange motel room, while waiting if their father will return from his latest hunt in one piece. Surely, nothing traumatic. But when he trailed through his childhood memories, he could only shook his head in dismay.

„No, nothing. It was probably our calmest year from mom´s death. We stayed in one place for more than a half year, and dad was more often lucky in his hunts. No major injury as far as I know. It was almost two years before I got hunting."

„Could it be that," Sam commented. „Maybe you thought it was the safest place...or time, or whatever."

„I repeat - my mind is still twenty seven year old, Sammy," Dean said with as much conviction as he could. „And why the hell would I want to be somehwere safe? I think we are safe as long as we are together." At his last sentence, Sam swallowed and uneasily looked at his brother, his eyes full of guilt.

„Oh, come on, that´s not about it!" Dean groaned, knowing that Sam was once again thinking about the asylum.

„You weren´t safe with me, Dean. I almost killed you," he uttered and Dean once again groaned, throwing his hands in the air.

„Look, we should clear it once and for all. I know you would never hurt me, Sam. And although you may have a craving to kick my ass from time to time, you would not kill me. I put that gun into your hand. I wanted you to drop the damn shotgun, so I could take a move at you. I should´ve done it before you pulled the trigger. It´s my fault. I don´t hold it against you." Dean spoke fiercely, even though somewhere deep inside he could still feel the pain in his chest, the pain that didn´t come from the rock salt. He really didn´t know what he felt anymore, and maybe that was the hardest part. At one side, he gave the gun to his brother just for the reason to unarm him. But that didn´t explain why he let him pull the trigger. Why he asked him to do it. No, that part was something Dean let happen because he wanted to know. He needed to know how deep the hate ran in Sam. And he got his answer.

„I know that saying I am sorry won´t change it," Sam spoke and Dean blinked, pulled from his own thoughts. "But I really am. I would never hurt you, Dean."

„You did," was the silent reply and Dean´s eyes went wide the moment he realised he said it aloud. "Sammy, I-" he started, but Sam raised his hand and shook his head, looking surprisingly calm.

„No, Dean, that´s okay. In truth, that was what I needed to hear."

The puzzled look on Dean´s childish face was almost funny, if not for the fear lurking in his eyes. Sam didn´t know why it was here, but he intended to ride it away.

„I know I can´t change the past. I can´t take back those words and I don´t really want to, because some of it was the truth, especially about dad. But... I never meant to pull the trigger. Never," he added, looking into Dean´s eyes with such conviction, that Dean had to accept it.

„Good. Cause the next time you shoot me with rock salt, I will shoot back," he said, the slight smile tugging at his lips.

„Right. Wanna give me a hug?" Sam asked, playfully and ducked when the pillow came flying at him.

„Jerk," Dean shouted.

„Bitch," Sam replied, then laughing, grabbed the fallen pillow and threw it back at his brother.

xxxx

Sam looked up from the computer in the local library. His eyes felt as if someone took a sandpaper at them from looking through the microfilms for the last hour or so, searching the archive of the town´s press that was stored there. Next to him, a bleary eyed Dean looked up from the other computer, pushing a strand of hair out of his face.

„Uhm, maybe you should take a look at this," he said and stood, making place for Sam.

„What?" Sam sit down and started reading. Dean highlighted two or three articles, from different years. The oldest was from 1958.

The article was rather short, speaking about Amely Stockhart, a woman who lived alone somewhere in the woods, on the outer border of the Crystle town. A family reported that while on a camping trip, they saw some kind of ceremony going on. Upon they return, they described it to the sheriff who was in turn a friend of the local journalist. The ceremony didn´t look to be harmful and the people didn´t think much about it. The journalist mentioned that Amely Stockhart was known for her strange behaviour and he even throw in a joke about Crystle town having their own witch.

„They obviously didn´t believe it," Dean spoke, seeing his brother just finished the passage. Sam shrugged.

„It´s always better if they thought she was crazy than if they started some witch trial."

„Yeah well, maybe they didn´t believe her, but she sure as hell did something. Read this."

Dean pointed the cursor to the other article.

„In 1968, they had a really hot summer without rain. The whole country had troubles with the drought. Until that ceremony. The rain started two days later – the catch is, it started only here, in Crystle town. Nowhere else."

„Interesting, but what does this have to do with you turning into a kid?"

This time it was Dean who shrugged, giving a frustrated sigh.

„Just read further."

So Sam read. And his eyes narrowed by every passage, until he finished and turned back to Dean.

„Okay, something´s definitely weird in this town. I mean, they were in some kind of trouble, Amely Stockhart just did her stuff and everything was okay. But there were no questions, only few articles that came out rather as a joke than the real thing."

„Yeah," Dean acquiesced with a sigh. „Seems like the good witch was in work. Pity she died five years ago."

„Still, there´s no mention in any physical change and by the sound of it, that woman did no harm. Turning you into kid just seems too off..."

„Yeah well, there´s also the question how did this happen. My only answer is the place where we burned those bones. I don´t know why, but I felt something strange when we were there yesterday."

„Yes, you was acting a little weird," Sam agreed and rolled his eyes at the frown that appeared on Dean´s young face. „So isn´t it more possible that what happened yesterday was what caused this whole thing in the first place? No offense, but thinking some woman – or witch – who is already several years dead would do this trick on you for no reason is a little crazy."

„Well, we won´t know until we look at it. I say we go back to that place. If there won´t be anything, we should try and ask around about Amely Stockhart. Maybe she had some relatives left."

As they headed out of the library, Sam noticed the few curious stares toward Dean. With a frown, he ushered his brother out and into the car, feeling almost relief when he started up the Impala. Dean watched him suspiciously, for once not turning on the radio and his favorite casette.

„What´s up, Sammy?" he asked, twitching, trying to get comfortable on the passenger´s seat, and shooting a longing look at the wheel.

„Shouldn´t you be sitting in the back?" Sam asked, a small payback for his nickname.

The responding glare made him snicker.

„Sorry, bro. At least fasten the belts, would you? Last we need is some sheriff asking why the hell are you with me and not with your parents."

Grumbling, Dean did as asked, then looked at Sam with a frown.

„What do you mean?"

„You obviously didn´t notice the stares we got in the library. This is a rather small town, Dean. Most of the people remember me and my older brother. Now my older brother is nowhere to be seen, instead I am traipsing the town with a kid they don´t know. Not to mention you should be in school."

The first thing on Dean´s mind was a rather loud exclamation stating that he is no damned kid, but he caught the look in the backside mirror and shut up. Instead, he nodded. Until he won´t be back in his old body, they would need to take care of all the stuff their father was doing while they were kids. That meant school, some good explanations that would sound sensible enough so as to not instegate a call to the social services. All the little lies their family was used to tell, to keep the outside world unaware of their true lives.

Dean let out a frustrated sigh. He thought they were past that phase when Sammy outgrow him, and nobody asked the questions type „Why aren´t you in school?"

Whatever responsibilities came with being a grown up, it sure had it´s benefits and he felt at great disadvantage suddenly. Not from the demons, spirits or other monsters – but the real world, in which he was only a nine year old kid who belonged to school and whose missing parents would be more than suspicious wherever they put a foot.

„Damn it, Sammy... we can´t keep this up much longer. I really need to be back to my old self," Dean sighed and turned at Sam with almost a pleading look in his eyes. Sam blinked, not used to it. Dean never pleaded.

„I will do what I can," he promised, not realising that suddenly he took all the responsibility of the older brother and that for once Dean didn´t protest to the role reversal. He just nodded and turned away from Sam, watching the passing streets. He didn´t need to ask where they were going. The best place to start their quest was the place of their last hunt.

xxxxxxxxx

They left the Impala parked in the same place it was the day before, only this time they had a benefit of knowing where they're going. Though Dean was smaller, he sure didn't had trouble keeping up with Sam, but maybe it was more for the fact that this time they weren' t running after some ghost, but quietly, almost carefully walking through the forest, their memory the only map needed.

The silence was stretching between the two brothers, each lost in their own thoughts, each hoping that they would just wake up in the motel room, with both of them in their respectable ages. Not that Sam had something to complain about. It would be much harder for him to deal with Dean if his brother wasn't only wearing the younger body but also the mind of a nine year old child. Luckily, Dean was acting almost normally, though Sam had to push back a grin when he thought that maybe Dean' s body just decided to take the form that Dean' s actions called for. Because sometimes Dean acted right at the age of nine.

''What the hell is so funny?'' Dean growled and Sam looked back, almost startled when he didn' t find his brother. Then he looked down and put on his best 'I don't know what the hell are you talking about' face. Dean obviously didn't accept it, if the frown and the unintelligible muttering was anything to go by.

Dean's mood didn't improve much by the time they reached the familiar clearing, though they both let out a surprised gasp. The place where only yesterday was a hollow ground, now decorated a rather greenish grass. They looked at each other, as if to assure themselves that their memories weren't false. Finally Dean shrugged, turning away from the ground where they found the bodies, instead he walked toward the small place with the charred grass where they burned the bones, which were now resting several feet's farther, right where the trees started.

He was trying to concentrate, to find the disturbing feeling that enveloped him yesterday, but the only thing he felt right now was the fear and doubts about the future. Dean shook his head in frustration, for a moment looking up at the sky as if asking 'Why me?' But the only reply he got was his brother's hand squeezing his shoulder, giving his silent support.

The cabin was only partially hidden by the trees, obscure and almost unseen. Without question, Dean started walking toward it and almost instinctively reached for his gun that he had hidden beneath his shirt. He ignored the exasperated sigh from Sam and shrugged of the frown his brother was surely wearing.

''Chill, Sammy. Dad taught me shooting when I was seven. In nine I already handled most of our armour''

Sam snorted.

''Now that's just what I wanted to know. Really Dean, do you realise what could've happened if some cop pulled us over the curb and found that gun on you?''

''Now tell me Sammy, why the hell would a cop search some kid?'' Dean asked with a grin, then quickly raised his hand, dismissing the whole conversation, signalling Sam to stop. They were almost standing at the cabin's door and while there was no sign of life, no car and no sound, Dean could swear he saw a movement behind one of the windows.

''What?'' Sam asked, all business now and Dean pointed the gun at the said window, but want as might , there was no motion now.

''I think someone's home,'' he said in low voice and somehow grumpily gave the gun to Sam.

''It really won' t look good if I go knocking on that door with a gun,'' Dean acquiesced when Sam looked at him a little surprised. ''Just keep it handy. I don' t know what use I am like this,'' the last was uttered in silent voice but Sam still heard it. Dean didn' t give him any time to reply, when he boldly walked at the front porch, and not waiting for his brother to follow, he knocked on the door.

xxx

''Damn,'' Sam muttered and quickly followed his brother. For a moment it looked like there was no one at home, but then they heard a screeching of the floor and the doors opened.

''Well, you took your time, boys. I was waiting for you the whole morning.'' The woman in her fifties spoke with a smile as the door opened wider and she waved at them, inviting them inside. The Winchester brothers glanced at each other, surprised as well as wary of the welcome.

''Uhm, I am sorry Madam... but what the heck are you talking about?'' Dean asked heatedly, not moving a muscle to accept the invitation.

''Dean,'' Sam hissed and threw the woman an apologetic smile. ''I'm sorry, my brother isn't in his skin today.''

''Damn right I'm not Sammy,'' Dean muttered and this time felt his brothers fingers warningly jab into his ribs. He scowled, but refrained from any more comments. Instead he gave the woman a studious once over. She was high, but then Dean realised that in his current state everyone looked much bigger than he was used to. Still, she and Sam were looking eye to eye, so she was probably a little higher than Dean was few days ago. Her long brown hair was freely falling on her shoulders and the equally brown eyes sparkled with amusement.

''Well, will you come in or do you want to stay outside and holler, because me and my old bones are going to the couch.'' Not waiting for an answer, the woman simply turned and vanished inside the house, leaving the two brothers frowning at the front porch.

''I don' t like this,'' Dean muttered and walked inside, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Annoyed, he looked up at his brother.

''What?'' he asked.

''I'm going first,'' Sam said in a non debatable voice and followed the woman to one of the rooms, his hand still protectively clutching Dean's shoulder. Stunned by the sudden protectiveness, Dean didn't protest only silently moved with his brother.

The cooperativeness didn' t last long though.

''Dude, let go off me,'' Dean shrugged off the hand the instant they reached the living room. The woman was nowhere to be seen and they had a chance to look around the room. The furniture was old but cared for, there were no dust bunnies on the shelves, but the air had this strange smell, like when you open a book that was closed for too long. Dean couldn' t put his finger on it, but the whole house felt ancient.

''I hope you won't mind some lemonade, boys. Why don' t you get comfortable? I presume you'll want to hear what I have to tell you. Well, any questions?'' she asked with a smile as Dean reluctantly sit down at the couch, Sam easing down next to him.

''Who are you would be a good start,'' Dean uttered, the cold glass feeling good against his palm.

''I'm Susan Stockhart,'' the woman provided, looking slightly surprised that they didn' t already know and Sam thought they made another mistake when they came here, without looking for more info about Amely Stockhart and her relatives.

''And Amely was your...''

''Sister,'' she added when Sam didn't seem to continue. ''Boys, I would've thought you'll be a little more prepared,'' she said in a slight reprimand and Sam blushed.

''We were otherwise occupied,'' he muttered.

''Yeah, like trying to figure out what the hell happened to me.'' Dean growled, not at all feeling guilty for lack of research. Susan looked at him, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement or slight irritation – Sam wasn't sure which.

''Well, if I had doubts about which one of you was rejuvenated, I don't have them any more. What's your name, boy?''

''Dean. And I ceased to be a boy when I turned eighteen, which was ten years ago. Looks like you didn't do your research either. By the way, this is my kid brother Sam,'' he said with a provocative grin. Sam would've smacked him, but was too curious to hear the reply.

Susan laughed and gave him an acquiescing nod.

''Touché. To tell the truth, I didn' t know who will be the one for the job. I just knew there will be someone.''

The brothers looked at each other with a frown, before both asking their question:

''What job?''

Susan leaned deeper against the soft couch and took a sip from the lemonade, as if dragging the time, thinking about the reply. Maybe she was just trying to decide what to tell them, or trying to think of a way to how to tell them, Dean wasn't sure, but he didn't like it.

''Does this have something with the Denim's family?'' Sam asked impatiently. His reply was a half shrug.

''Partially, yes.'' Seeing the frustration grow in both boys, she put her drink away and cleared her throat. ''I don't really know where to start. The fact is that all that bad things happened while I was away. I came back only few days before my sister died and she didn't tell me everything.''

''What has your sister to do with Dean turning into a kid?'' Sam asked and ignored the glare from his brother.

''You should know that my sister was a powerful witch in her days, but the last few years, she was losing her strength in the fight with cancer. Before you ask – my sister was doing only white magic. However she wanted to help solving the disappearance of that family, she couldn't.''

''But she did something else,'' Dean uttered in half question. Susan nodded.

''She knew someone will help the family to cross the river and put them in peace. But she was afraid of what will Joe Hannings do when that happens.''

''Hannings is dead and probably burning in hell,'' Sam said with a frown. ''We made a research and there were no other sightings, not a sign that he's still there.''

''They will be. I can already feel that something is coming and it will be bad – if you won't stop it.''

Dean let out a frustrated sigh. They were talking about everything but him and although he wasn't one to dwell in self pity, he couldn't stop feeling like a victim.

''Still – what does this have to do with me? If you wanted our help, asking would be a much better way than turning me into a kid. I can't very well help anyone if I am like this.''

''That's where you're wrong, Dean,'' Susan said with a gentle smile. ''You should probably know that Hannings first victim was the boy. The parents were just sort of a inconvenience. Something that needed to be get rid off.''

''That doesn't make sense,'' Sam quipped in. ''They were all killed on the road, when they were moving out of the town. Why attack them like that? In the car?''

''You're right, they were moving. But did you ask why they were leaving?''

''There was a reason behind it different than a better job offer, or place to rise the kids?''

''I believe that Hannings was trying to get the boy before that awful thing happened.''

''You mean get him like – kill him? Or...'' Dean didn't finish, his face crumpled in disgust.

''I'm not really sure. Personally, I don't think old Hannings was interested in the boy for that reason. No, I think he wanted the boy for something else. Maybe he just reminded him of his own son.''

''Hannings had a son!'' Dean didn't know if he could be surprised anymore. This whole gig seemed to get out of control even before they arrived in the town.

''I'm afraid I can't tell you much more about it, you'll need to do some research. I just know that Hannings had a son, who died under some weird circumstance. That was twenty years ago. As far as my knowledge goes, the Denim's boy looked quite similar to his son.''

''And how can you know this?'' Sam inquired, getting a little suspicious that the woman was telling them only what she wanted. But it was still more than they knew.

''Me and my sister grew up here, and old Joe Hannings wasn't a crazy loner then. I knew his boy, Calum was his name if I remember correctly. I also saw the photograph of the Denim's boy. They could've been brothers for all I know. Light hair, a little longer. Green eyes and both looked younger than they respective age. Truth to be told, your brother resembles them in some aspects.''

At that comment both Susan and Sam looked at Dean, who blinked, feeling suddenly self conscious.

''So what?'' he growled and Sam let out an exasperated sigh, before looking back at Susan with accusation.

''That's the reason why you turned him into a kid? Because he looks like the boy Hannings killed? You want to make him another victim!'' The last came out as an angry shout and Sam felt Dean's hand on his arm, as if trying to calm him down. But he ignored it and get off the couch, towering above the woman.

''Sammy,'' Dean get up too, hoping to sound in command, but instead it came out more like a whine. Dean cursed silently and grabbed Sam's sleeve, finally getting his attention. All the while, Susan was just calmly sitting in her chair and waiting.

''Chill out, Sam,'' Dean said when Sam looked at him but he didn't get the reply he craved for.

''No, Dean. I can't chill when some stranger turns my older brother into a kid. I can't chill when said stranger wants you to play a damned bait!''

''Sam! Will you just shut up and listen for a moment?'' Dean all but shouted, ignoring the way his voice sounded. For the first time from the morning he woke up, he felt angry. Not at Susan or Amely Stockhart, not even at Hannings. He was angry with his brother Sam. ''Whatever I look like, I am not a kid! I can take care of myself. I was taking care of you from when I was five. Hell, I knew how to shoot before you learned to walk. When I was nine, dad trusted me with your life. I think I can handle this.''

''What if I can't?'' Sam whispered. ''I am not dad, Dean. I am not capable of risking your life, not when you're like this.'' It was surprising to hear that from his younger brother, but then Dean wasn't the one to pour his heart out.

''I know,'' Dean said slowly, realising that despite the fact that Dean's mind was intact, his brother didn't think of him as a protector anymore. Suddenly, Dean became the one protected and he didn't know if he should hate it or be grateful.

While the two brothers stared at each other, Susan cleared her throat, startling them.

''I didn't finish my story, boys and even though I really love to see you two getting along, you need to know more to be able to help.''

This time she get a glare from both brothers, but Sam seemed to forget why he lashed out in the first place, or he simply ignored it for the sake of the case. Dean didn't question it, just sit down, pulling Sam back to the couch.

''Before we will help you with anything, I need to know what had you done to my brother.''

''When my sister felt that she was losing her battle with the illness, she cast a protective spell. It had to be activated when the bones of the family were found and buried properly. She knew Hannings won't make his appearance while they were still here.''

''A protective spell? But who did it protect?''

''And how can a protective spell create negative reaction?''

''It's supposed to protect this place... the people of this town, the children. What happened to your brother wasn't a negative effect. I'm not sure if Amely knew what will happen once the spell is activated, or if it was written specifically for Dean. Anything is possible. Now though we must work with what we have. And I can tell you one thing. Your brother won't get back his old body until this thing is finished.''

xxx

It was a good half an hour later when the two brothers left the cabin. They had more informations than they even hoped for when they started out this morning, but it didn't mean that they were more prepared for what happened.

''I should talk with the sheriff,'' Sam thought out loud, trying to come up with some plan. Anything that didn't involve Dean being the bait. But even as he thought about what he'll ask the sheriff, what weapons or what threat they're really facing, he knew that there was virtually nothing that would stop Dean from getting off and trying to lure Hannings out to the open. But the last he could do was prepare for it and take every possible measures to keep him safe and alive. No matter how old Dean stayed.

''Good luck. I think you'll get more info from that waitress. Hey, maybe you could take her up on that offer for a movie, watcha say?'' Dean said sarcastically, feeling downbeat. He didn't mind being the bait, what worried him was the fact he didn't had a choice. Someone decided for him, without him and for Dean Winchester, that just wasn't acceptable. Whatever reasons, he should've had a choice.

He was suddenly brought out of his thoughts when he bumped into Sam.

''Sammy, what the-''

''How far is our car, Dean?'' Sam asked, frowning at their surroundings. Dean looked around and for the first time realised they were not on the trail.

''Dunno. We should've been there already,'' he replied, puzzled. ''Did you get off the trail?'' he asked, only slightly accusing. Sam was walking ahead of him and Dean simply followed, for the first time in so many years too lost in his thoughts to pay attention. He cursed himself. This wasn't the best place to get lost, not when there was an angry spirit looking for small boys. They weren't prepared for an attack.

''I didn't!'' Sam answered his question, his frown growing deeper. He knew he was following the track and didn't understood how they could've get lost. But it looked like that was what happened. They were lost.

''Just great,'' Dean grumbled, exasperated. He was about to turn and try to track their steps back toward the cabin, or at least get back on the trail, when he froze. It was like a breeze. Gentle, whispering in his ears. But the breeze was too hot against his exposed neck and suddenly the whispers became clearer and the breeze changed into something much more powerful. It sent shivers through his body, and cold fear gripped his heart. He couldn't speak, couldn't call out and warn his brother.

''I've got you.''

The voice whispered right into his left ear and before Dean could react, his body was hauled up onto unseen shoulders and taken away from Sam. And as he was taken away, all he could hear was the frantic call of his brother.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read: Andrea (TangledPencils)

He didn't hear it coming, didn't even feel it. Only his gut was telling him to look out for trouble, but Sam was never good at listening to his gut, and either way, the warning came too late.

''Dean!''

He cried out even before he spun around and saw that his brother was no longer there. Sam's eyes went wide when he saw Dean in the air, hanging limply as if thrown across somebody's shoulder, his stance reminding Sam of the firemen's carry. But there was nothing keeping him there. Only the misty entity, a form looking remotely like an old, haggard man.

''Dean!'' Sam shouted again, this time his voice unable to conceal all the horror he felt at finding his brother in the grasp of some monster. What was worse, Dean didn't look like he was fighting back and Sam knew very well that short of being unconscious, nothing could stop his brother from fighting.

''Hey, you bastard! Let him go!'' Sam knew that it wouldn't do any good, but he still had to say something. Distract the ghost, if that was what it was, and give Dean a chance to react, or at least think about a way to save himself. But luck wasn't on his side and the misty figure didn't think him worth enough to reply.

Sam pulled out the gun Dean gave him, suddenly feeling like an idiot for coming there so unprepared. He practically heard his father scolding him, and this time, he could only agree. But there was no time to indulge in self-recrimination. He knew the silver bullets in Dean's gun wouldn't hurt the ghost, but he hoped they could at least get his attention. Wasn't that what Dean did all the time? Getting the attention of some monster so Sammy could do his job and finish it off with some Latin?

Sam aimed and fired. He emptied half the magazine into the man, but the only thing he accomplished was the ringing in his ears. The spook vanished into the bushes, along with his brother. Shouting out a curse, Sam ran after them, not sure what he'd do when he caught up, but knowing that Dean's life depended on him.

x

Something was painfully digging into his stomach and he blinked, trying to push back the nauseous feeling. The swaying motion was making him dizzy and hanging head down wasn't helping.

''Sam?'' Dean asked in a small voice. The only reason he could think of for the way he was being treated was that he had been hurt and Sam was carrying him to safety. But he didn't feel hurt, and as his vision cleared and the fuzziness retreated, he could tell that whoever was carrying him wasn't Sammy. He thought for a brief, confused second that maybe it was their father, but looking down at the misty figure, he excluded that option as well.

Upon that realisation, Dean instictively reacted. His hands curled into fists as he brought his left elbow against the neck of his kidnapper. Under any other circumstance, he would've felt a stab of pain when he connected with the neck at the base of skull, and his attacker would at least develop a headache. But this one didn't even flinch. Instead of a painful hiss and a release of the tight grip, all Dean got was a sickening chuckle.

''You won't run from me boy. Not this time.''

Dean wanted to disagree about the not running part, but he paused.

''Dude, let me go. You're crazy, I never saw you before!'' Dean growled and kicked out, gasping at the bone deep cold that hit him. Obviously the guy was not only crazy but a ghost as well.

''Where's my brother?'' Dean asked after a moment, trying to hide the growing panic. ''If you hurt him-''

The chuckling sound came again but this time it was more amused than angry.

''You're a tough one, boy. But I'll teach you some respect, don't fear. I taught Callum and I will teach you too.'' Dean felt the threat and unconsciously shivered. Then he realised that the name was familiar and he mentally kicked himself that he hadn't realised it right away. The only excuse he had was that his mind was still a little scrambled from whatever influence the ghost had on him.

''You're Joe Hannings,'' he mumbled and once again started squirming, this time trying to get a good look at the ghost's face. The only result he got was a wicked toothless smile, the scent of decay breathed into his face and the coldness creeping through his insides, as the spectre tightened his hold on him. Crying out in frustration, Dean stopped fighting. Instead he concentrated on their surroundings, trying to see their position, and maybe catch a sight of his little brother planning a rescue. With a sigh, Dean lowered his head, not a bit wiser. Trees were everywhere and there was nothing that looked familiar, no clear landmarks. It was hard to look up at the sky but at least he could chance a guess that they were going to the west, as it was still quite early and the sun was behind them. But there was no sign of Sam, not a sound. The only consolation Dean had was the misty recollection of hearing Sam's voice calling his name. He knew his brother was still alive and that was more than a little reason for hope.

It looked like Hannings wasn't planning to kill him outright, as he would've already done so. And he had said something about teaching him a lesson. Well, Dean wasn't planning on sticking around long enough to learn anything from the bastard. He was sure he'd get a chance to escape. Until then, it would be best to co-operate.

''Why did you take me?'' Dean asked, gasping as the shoulder dug deeper into his gut when Hannings ducked under a rather low bough.

''You came after me.'' Hannings replied as if it was as clear as the sky. He sounded almost surprised by the question, but not more than Dean was at the answer.

''I didn't!'' he protested fiercely, then grunted, when Hannings shrugged.

''You were at my house. You got to see the witch.''

Dean rolled his eyes. These weren't the answers he wanted but judging by the tone they were given, he didn't think that Hannings would be more forthcoming.

''Where are you taking me then?''

To tell the truth, Dean didn't think he would get an answer, so it surprised him when Hannings spoke.

''To the mines. Plenty of space, hundreds of old tunnels. No one to hear you scream.'' The last comment was added with a sickening laughter that scared the hell out of Dean. Suddenly he wished they'd stayed at the motel or that they'd completely ignored this gig.

A loud thunderclap made him flinch, but he was surprised when he felt Hannings shiver and his gait faltered. Then he started running.

''Hey!'' Dean protested, the motion making him dizzy once again. He didn't understand why the spook had started running. Surely, he didn't see some threat? Maybe Sam was closer than he thought, Dean thought hopefully, but then the smile fell as another thunderclap announced the oncoming storm. Hannings once again flinched and Dean suddenly realised that the ghost wasn't running from Sam, because Sam wasn't there. He was running from the storm. When the first raindrops fell and Hannings hissed as if scalded, Dean knew what to do.

x

The rain started up at the same time as Sam's panic. It felt like an eternity since he saw Dean vanish in the bushes, tossed across the spook's shoulder like a bag of potatoes, unmoving. Even though it wasn't more than thirty minutes, Sam couldn't help but feel like he had lost Dean. There was no path to start following, never mind the fact that any tracks were vanishing right before his eyes, as the rain puddled on the ground.

Not only had he lost Dean, Sam was sure he was lost too. There was no way he could find his way back to the cabin of Susan Stockhart and only a slim chance that he'd find Dean's car anytime soon. Not before the storm ended. Flinching as another lightning bolt hit the ground, Sam hoped Dean was still alive.

After another half hour of blind searching, Sam wouldn't have minded being struck by the bolt. He felt as if he failed, the feeling heightened by the fact that he was now the one who should've protected Dean.

His clothes were soaked through and Sam stopped in the middle of the familiar clearing. Heavy raindrops were hitting his skin with painful force, but he didn't mind. He just stood there, his eyes falling on the new grave that they had made just a day ago.

He didn't know what to do. Sinking down to his knees, Sam grasped the grass and with a frustrated growl pulled at it. Blinking the water out of his eyes, Sam panted on the wet ground, his knees boring into the mud. If he thought it would help, he would've started praying.

The seconds turned into minutes, and Sam was breathing hard, trying to calm down. He couldn't panic, he reminded himself, and he continued saying it out loud like a mantra. Panic never helped. But God, it was hard not to. Before, there was always Dean to help him, to keep him going, however scared he was. Now he needed to protect his brother, the smart-ass older brother that looked like a nine year old kid. And he had failed.

Sam gave himself another minute to wallow in self-pity, before he slowly rose to his feet.

Had it been Dean in his current position, Sam knew he would've already had a plan, probably involving lots of guns and risk. Sam had nothing. He could return to the Impala and get all the guns needed, but what then?  
Shooting the ghost didn't help before. Maybe a binding spell and rock salt would do, though Sam had a feeling that this wasn't an ordinary ghost, not to mention he didn't have a clue where the body could be. He definitely needed to do more research and dig through his father's journal.

The worst part of that idea was that that would take time and Sam wasn't sure Dean had it in the first place.

Sam shook his head, spraying the water all around like a wet dog. He didn't mind. The rain was starting to ease off and he found the path he was looking for. Maybe Susan Stockhart would have the answers he needed. He was sure she knew more than what she had told them, but until now, Sam hadn't been as desperate to get the information. Now he would do anything to find Dean.

Feeling a little better to have a plan, Sam headed for the cabin. He didn't make it further than a few yards, when his phone started ringing. Startled at the sound, it took him a second to realise what the noise meant. Hope mixing with anticipation, he grabbed for the cell. His hand slipped on the cover as he fumbled to open it. He frowned at the strange caller's ID, but didn't think about it. There was only one thing he wanted to know and for the first time in the last few months, it wasn't anything to do with their father's well being.

''Dean?'' Sam asked, unable to contain his hope. .

x

It was easier than he thought. Dean very quickly realised that Hannings was scared of the storm. Logically, Dean doubted that a storm could hurt Hannings, but sometimes it was more about the perception than the reality. He knew he needed to act, before the storm ended, or before Hannings took him to the mines. He still couldn't wiggle out of the ghost's clutches and silently cursed, wondering just how something so incorporeal could have such a physical effect.

When another lightning bolt hit a little too close even for Dean's liking, Hannings screamed and sped up. Dean set his plan in motion.

''Let me down! Let me down! You're too slow, it will hit us!'' Dean shouted using his full lung capacity and all the hysterics of a nine-year-old child. ''Let me down!''

As if Mother Nature herself was trying to help him, another lightning bolt struck a tree ahead of them, setting it on fire. Both Dean and Hannings screamed, this time in real fright. Dean felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as the static electricity burned the air around them. Hannings stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide open in terror. Until now, Dean didn't know a ghost could be paralysed from fear, but Hannings was frozen in place, unmoving. His grip on Dean loosened and Dean surely wasn't the one to question his luck.

He quickly wriggled out, grunting when he landed on his shoulder, but almost instantly he was back on his feet. The world spun around and he fought the blackness, as the blood rushed from his head. Swaying, he still took few steps away from Hannings, who didn't seem to notice his absence; instead he was watching the tree. The fire was being doused by the rain and Dean knew the spectre would realise he was gone soon. Maybe a few seconds at most. As steadily as he could, he started running, turning to the left rather than where they came from. He would have to find Sammy, but his priority was to get rid of Hannings.

''Hey! Come back you little shit!'' resounded through the forest and Dean winced, ducking the bough that was waving in the wind. He didn't realise the weather had turned so bad, but then, he didn't really mind. It gave him a better chance to escape.

It was a dense forest, full of bushes and Dean was soon scratched, but it didn't slow him down. He heard the angry shouts behind him, interrupted by the occasional thunderclap. Every time the lightning hit, he felt that Hannings was falling further behind and couldn't help but grin. Even if the scratches burned and he was dripping wet, he felt a small victory when the last of the shouts died away. Five minutes, he was running for five minutes, stumbling and ducking trees, gasping for breath and feeling as cold as ever. The sky was still dark, but the storm was moving away. He wasn't sure if he should be happy or afraid. Hannings was still somewhere behind him.

Finally, when his lungs couldn't handle it anymore and his knees buckled, Dean stopped. Panting hard, he wearily moved his hand to wipe the water from his eyes and turned his head, listening. The only sound was the raindrops hitting the leaves of the trees and the sound was subsiding. Dean swallowed and looked up at the sky, realising that the rain was stopping. He listened like a guard dog, feeling that warning tightness in his stomach. His eyes lit up when he caught the sound of a car, right ahead of him. There should be a road. He mustered all his strength and stood up, using his father's training as well as the desperate need to get away, to be safe and find his brother.

He could already see the tarmac of the road maybe fifty yards ahead. Feeling slightly relieved, he didn't notice the figure nearing him from the right. It was more of a reflex than real thinking that forced him to turn and look.

''Like I said, you can't escape,'' the words were delivered with an evil smile, one that made Dean's stomach churn.

Spinning around, Dean started for the road as if his life depended on it. And maybe it did. He almost made it. Almost. But something grabbed his shirt, raising him in the air, then with an uncanny force throwing him away. He didn't even realise he hit the ground until he saw the two lights coming at him with alarming speed. Dean blinked, scrambling to his feet. Only then did he notice that he was standing on the road. He heard the engine of the car and the blaring of the horn before one of the lights connected with his side and sent him to the darkness.

xxxxxxxxx

An evil pair of eyes watched as the car hit the boy, throwing his body to the side of the road, closer to the unseen spectator. He was about to reach out and grab the boy, but the shriek of the brakes and the hurried steps approaching prevented him from it. The ghost retreated behind the bushes, watching. It wasn't as if these people could harm him, but there were three of them and he didn't want to be seen. It was still raining lightly and even though the storm was far away, the ghost still jerked when the thunder clashed in the distance.

''My God, Peter, it's just a kid!'' the older woman who was now kneeling next to Dean cried out, horrified. Her husband took one look at the scene and sent his son into the car, for his cell phone.

''Is he alive?'' The boy asked as he handed the cell to his father and nervously looked around. He thought it weird to see a kid alone in such weather and so far from the town.

''Yeah, but we'll need to get him into hospital. My god, Pete – what was he doing here?''

''I don't know Jill,'' Peter shook his head, and concentrated on the voice on the cell, giving out details of their location.

The ghost waited and watched. He knew the boy would be taken away from him, but that was okay. He knew that if Dean survived, he'd feel impelled to return. If he somehow managed to resist the compulsion, well then the spectre would find someone else. When the first sirens of the ambulance could be heard, the ghost turned and vanished in the forest, leaving the chaos behind.  
Despite what anybody would think, it wasn't the pain or prodding that woke him, it was the coldness seeping through his clothes, numbing his skin and stabbing at his bones. When someone threw a blanket over him he started shivering. At first the shivers were small, but as his body tried to greedily seek the warmth, they became more violent.

Teeth chattering, Dean tried to curl up into a fetal position to keep warm, but before he could even manage to pull his knees closer, he felt the stab of pain in his side. Like an awakening monster, pain suddenly roared into being, and Dean couldn't help but groan with the nearly overwhelming sensations.

''Hey kid, you waking up?'' he heard a voice closer than he would've liked, then felt the hand on his face.

Dean slowly opened his eyes. Blinking, he tried to concentrate on the figure looming over him. It was a man not much older than Sam; the only difference was the light hair and the glasses. He didn't look threatening, but the only thing Dean could think of was that this wasn't his brother. Frowning, he batted away the hand that was now trying to keep his head still while flashing a penlight into his eyes.

''Hey, it's okay. Everything will be fine, just stay put. Can you tell me your name?'' the man asked, his voice soothing.

Dean didn't reply. He looked around, for the first time realising that it wasn't only his vision that was swimming, but that they were really moving. Taking in his surroundings, Dean knew he was in the ambulance. What troubled him was the fact that Sam wasn't there with him. Trying to think about what had happened that ended up with him in an ambulance, Dean closed his eyes. Maybe if he couldn't see everything moving in crazy gyrations, the dizziness would go away.

''Come on kid, stay awake,'' the man coaxed him and Dean's eyes snapped open, annoyed by the nickname. He was older than this guy, so why the hell was he being patronized?

''Stop calling me 'kid','' he growled and shot the man one of his warning glares that could shut Sam up for an hour. But somehow it didn't work now because the man flashed him a smile.

''Geez, you can talk. Maybe if you'd told me your name I wouldn't have to call you kid.'' Dean frowned, still silent. He had a nagging feeling that there was something important he didn't remember and it was giving him a rather bad headache. At least he hoped that was why his head hurt.

''Look kid, if you won't tell me your name, what about telling me what hurts so I can help?'' the question was genuine but Dean had to concentrate on that little thing nagging in the back of his mind. Something about being a kid... and then something clicked and Dean's mind was suddenly full of the things that had happened in the last day, up until the moment he saw the lights of the car.

''Sammy!'' he called out and sat up, or at least tried to. The pain in his side along with a pair of restraining hands sent him back to the stretcher. ''No, let me go! You don't understand, my brother is in danger! He's still in the forest! I need to help him,'' the last was uttered more like a plea as Dean realised that he couldn't go anywhere. Not with the stabbing pain in his side, or with the medic keeping him down. Dean let out a frustrated cry and stopped struggling.

He needed to find Sam. And he needed to do it before Hannings did. But short of pointing a gun at the driver, there was no way to get out of the ambulance. For the first time in his life, Dean didn't have his gun: nor his cell phone or his wallet.

Blinking, Dean would've slapped himself if he hadn't already been hurting.

''You have to call my brother. Please. He needs to know where I am so he can come and get me. You have to call him,'' Dean pleaded and hated himself for sounding so whining but he couldn't help it. If Sam knew where he was, he would leave the forest and come after him. He would be safe.

''Okay, okay, we will call him, just relax. How old is your brother?'' Dean blinked, puzzled by the question. Why was it important how old Sam was? But then it hit him what he said.

''He's twenty-two. But there's something in the forest... some animal... it was chasing me and I got lost, but now it can go after Sammy... you have to call him!'' Dean insisted, breathing faster than his ribs would like and judging by the scowl on the medic's face, a little faster than he liked too.

''Can you give me his number?'' Dean opened his mouth, then frowned. He should've known the number, he was sure, but he was getting fuzzy, and the numbers kept mixing up. He felt the panic grow. ''I-I don't... it's all mixed up,'' he muttered looking at the medic with fear. The man just nodded and shot him another calming smile.

''That's okay, you'll tell us later. Just try to relax, we will take care of everything.''

''No, you don't understand,'' Dean started struggling again, needing to get away, to find Sammy. He didn't have time for this. But as he raised his head, the world spun and he found himself back on the stretcher, fighting off the wave of nausea and panting for breath. He could see the medic watching him with concern, his mouth moving but no sound leaving his lips. Dean thought he saw him speaking into the microphone, but when he blinked, the medic was already by the foot of the stretcher and opening the door. Dean didn't care. Suddenly he felt too tired to even keep his eyes open. Never before was the idea of sleep so inviting.  
''Dean?'' Sam asked with a hope that was almost instantly gone, when a feminine voice spoke from the phone instead of his brother's.

''Mr. Sam?'' the woman asked, almost tentatively. Sam frowned at the weird title.

''Yes. Who's calling?''

''My name's Gail Monroe. I am working in the County hospital in Pendelton. There was a car accident on the road to Crystle town. A young boy was brought in. He regained consciousness a while ago but wasn't able to give us his name. He just kept insisting that his brother might be in danger and that he needs to leave. The boy was quite confused, but he finally managed to give us your number. So do you have a younger brother, Mr Sam?'' Gail said it in one rush, so she finished before Sam could even open his mouth to ask about the car accident. In truth, the only thing Sam could think of was the fact that his brother was alive and hopefully safe.

''Mr Sam, are you still there?'' Gail asked and her tone indicated that she wasn't asking the first time.

''Is he okay?'' Sam blurted out, nervous to hear the answer. Just what had happened to Dean in these last couple of hours?

''Yes, he will be. I am sorry, but until you come here I can't give you the details, Mr -?'' Gail asked, clearly wanting his correct name.

''Adams,'' Sam quickly supplied the name he had used in the motel. ''Samuel Adams. My brother is Dean. So, um, ... can you give me some directions to the hospital?'' Sam listened as the woman on the other end of the phone call gave him the address, and he realised it was the same hospital the previous victims were taken to. Probably because it was the only hospital in the vicinity, Sam thought bitterly.

''Can you just tell Dean that I am on my way?'' he asked before Gail could hang up on him.

''Yes, of course. He will be relieved.''

''Thanks,'' Sam said, even though Gail had already ended the call. He let out a relieved sigh, still feeling the tension, but the panic was gone. Of course he still needed to get out of the forest and find the car.

The storm was gone and as the sun started to shine through the leaves of the trees, his hair started to dry, although his clothes still clung heavily to him. Looking around, Sam realised he was still standing at the clearing where it had all started. Shaking his head, he started out the way he remembered they had come from the first time.

He saw the Impala, the black hood glittering from the rain but otherwise undamaged. Sam smiled and took a step closer when something warned him of company. It could've been nothing. Or everything. Sam tensed and took another step forward. Something behind him moved.

Stopping to take in a breath, Sam slowly turned his head and froze. A mere few yards from him stood the ghost of the man who had taken Dean, but this time Sam recognized him as Joe Hannings.

''What do you want?'' he asked, feeling proud that his voice didn't shake. Hannings just smiled, pointing his fingers at Sam's chest.

The young hunter didn't have time to react as he was thrown against one of the trees. He slid down to the ground and gasped, trying to catch his breath. The figure started to come closer, but then it stopped, a confused look on it's face. Sam watched as Hannings jumped back, as if burned. He frowned, then realised that there was a white line of salt on the ground. He didn't know who put it there, but he had a feeling that maybe Susan Stockhart had had a hand in it.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Sam got up and as fast as he could, ran towards the car. Wrenching open the door and flinging himself into the driver's seat, he started up the Impala and planted his foot on the gas heavily, the wheels spinning and digging into the ground before gaining traction and propelling the car forward. The open car door slammed shut as he hurtled away from the ghastly apparition. Sam didn't look into the side mirror, so he didn't see the satisfied smile on Hannings' face.

''You'll bring him to me'' the ghost declared, as the Impala sped up and disappeared down the road in a spray of mud.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read: Andrea (TangledPencils)

It was only after the third time he awoke from unconsciousness that Dean managed to give the nurse at the hospital his brother's number. That was as far as he got when being questioned about his relatives, how he got to the road and why he was outside alone in the storm.

What was worse was the silence when the doctor asked his name, birth date and other simple things that were supposed to assess the seriousness of the concussion that he sustained. Because Dean gave a negative answer to each of these, he knew they assumed he had a serious head injury, and that was the reason he had to undergo all those stupid tests. What he hated most was the CAT scan. The humming was making him edgy, more so that he still didn't know if someone managed to get hold of Sammy. Lying in that big machine, being unable to even move didn't make him feel any better.

But he couldn't help it. It wasn't as if he did it to piss off the staff. Dean simply didn't know those answers. Yeah, he could tell them his name was Dean Winchester, but then Dean Winchester was officially dead. There was no other Dean Winchester, not of the age of nine. That was the next problem. Dean knew that Sam would come and that he would supply all the information, along with their names. Probably the same ones under which they booked in at the motel. The name Dean couldn't for the life of him remember.

So it was easier to just keep silent and let the doctors think whatever they wanted. Once the tests were done, they shipped Dean into a room. He couldn't stop a groan when he already heard a yelling child and they were still at the corridor. Dean looked up at the nurse that was pushing his stretcher.

''Can't I get my own room?'' he asked and must've sounded really pitiful, because the nurse smiled.

''Don't fear, your roomie isn't so bad. Once his parents are gone, Jamie is quiet.''

''Just how old IS he?'' Dean grumbled, already annoyed that there would be more strangers in the room. He really wasn't feeling up to seeing a family reunion. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, only to snap them open when the nurse spoke.

''By the way, we contacted your brother. He is on his way.''

''He okay?'' Dean couldn't stop the question, even though it earned him a puzzled expression.

''Yes. He's probably scared to death that his little brother was in an accident, but he sounded fine. Well, here we are.''

Dean didn't realize they were in the room until he was efficiently moved to his new bed. Grunting when his side protested at the motion, he threw a casual look at the next bed and it's occupant.

The kid, not older than seven, looked at him curiously but before he could ask anything, the nurse pulled the curtain closed. Dean was thankful for that, even as the child started chattering with his mother. Even though they tried to keep it low, the kid's voice was high pitched and it grated on Dean's headache like nothing else had. Deciding that closing his eyes might help, he fell asleep.

Next time he woke up it was to the feeling of someone's hand brushing through his hair. Even with his mind slightly fuzzy, he knew it wasn't anything he was used to. The only person who did it was his mother, and that was long time ago. When a soft kiss was placed on his forehead, Dean's eyes snapped open.

''What the-'' but he stopped once he saw a haggard looking Sam leaning over him. ''Dude, what was that for?'' he asked instead with a frown.

''Just glad you're alive. Plus I had to wake you up before the concussion check.''

''Huh?''

''Look, they will never spring you if you can't tell them your name, birth date, etc.''

''Why the hell not? I told them who's the president. Should be enough,'' Dean grumbled and looked to his left, wary to speak.

''The kid is fast asleep, Dean. It's almost ten.''

''How come you're here, then?'' Dean asked with a grin and earned a glare.

''Let's just say that I befriended one of the nurses.''

''That's my boy,'' Dean said proudly and winced as he tried to get into a more comfortable position. Sam adjusted the pillow behind his back, ignoring the glare.

''Do you realize how crazy it sounds coming from a nine year old? Now seriously Dean. What happened?''

''You want the long story or the 'Reader's Digest' version?'' Dean's tone was clipped as he rubbed at his temple, willing the headache away.

''Reader's Digest will do for now.''

''Bad ghost caught me, wanted to take me to his hiding place and teach me to behave. Got scared of the storm and I ran away. Obviously, I didn't lose him as I thought. He caught up with me by the road. Threw me into the way of the car. I woke up in the ambulance.'' Dean concluded with a half shrug, hand unconsciously touching his side.

''You're lucky the ribs aren't broken. The doc told me something about how your bones are more flexible while you're still growing.'' Sam smirked, then his face turned serious. ''You've still got a concussion, and they're keeping you here to watch out for any internal bleeding. Apparently you've also got a bruised kidney.''

''Hell, tell me what isn't bruised?'' Dean mumbled, feeling worse only from hearing the facts. But he quickly stopped when he saw the expression on his brother's face.

''Oh shit, Sammy, this really wasn't your fault,'' he grabbed Sam's hand and squeezed. ''I should've taken the shotgun and shoot his ass full of rock salt.''

''No, it was my responsibility, Dean. You-''

''Dude, just leave it, okay? It's not like my brain was affected by that damned curse, but it sure as hell isn't feeling up to try and argue with you. So just tell me what happened after I was gone.''

Sam frowned, but quickly relayed the events, not leaving out anything.

''Salt, hmm? And you think it was Susan Stockhart. Why didn't she warn us then if she knew what was gonna happen?''

''Dunno. Maybe she didn't care. After all, she wants you to be the bait.'' Sam could hardly keep the disdain from his voice. It wasn't like him to be angry with strangers, but Dean could tell that his brother really didn't like the woman. He just wasn't sure if it was because of what she did to him, or if it was some 'feeling' that had more to do with Sam's extra powers. He hoped it was the first. Before he could ask though, he heard someone coming in. Sam didn't look up, but he obviously heard it too, because he leaned towards Dean and quickly told him the name he was supposed to tell the nurse, along with his new birth date and several other facts. Dean only hoped that he didn't get it mixed up and that he would remember it the next day too. He doubted it, as it was getting harder to concentrate, but he obviously managed to give all the right answers because the nurse looked rather satisfied. She even brushed his hair. It grated on Dean's nerves that it was all in a maternal type way, because she was really hot.

''So, what's the verdict?'' Dean couldn't help but ask, barely hiding the yawn. ''Can I leave now?''

''My, aren't you a little impatient?'' she laughed, while taking his blood pressure. ''You didn't even taste our Jell-O. And it's first class, I can assure you.''

Dean grimaced. He would've taken a bag of M&M's over Jell-O anytime. Though now he didn't feel much like eating anything.

''Really Sam, when can I leave?'' he asked seriously as the nurse went to leave. On her way out she stopped beside Sam and reminded him that visiting hours were long over and that he should leave. Sam asked for ten more minutes, letting the nurse know he would really appreciate it. Combined with the pleading look from Dean, she didn't have a chance. Sam and Dean exchanged small smirks behind her retreating back.

''You'll probably be out tomorrow," Sam said, finally managing to answer Dean's question. "The doctor wasn't sure because of your 'memory loss', but I guess if you tell him what he wants to hear in the morning, and if there is no internal bleeding, that they'll spring you later in the afternoon,''

''Great,'' Dean sighed and closed his eyes tiredly. He could feel Sam's eyes on him and squirmed, grimacing at the resulting pain.

''Stop staring at me Sammy, I'll be fine.'' Dean grumbled and looked at his brother. ''Go to the motel and get some sleep. You look like crap and we'll need to do some research tomorrow.''

''First off, I am not staring. Second, the only thing you will be doing tomorrow is rest. As for getting some sleep, I need to make some arrangements first,'' Sam added a little hesitantly.

''What arrangements?'' Dean asked, suspiciously.

''I'll need some papers.''

''Huh? Concussion here, Sammy,'' Dean reminded, not at all feeling like playing twenty questions.

''While you are my brother, I still need some documents that would confirm that. The hospital won't send a minor home with a stranger. I'm not old enough to be your father, and our parents are 'unreachable', so I'll need at least a false birth certificate. And while I'll be at it, maybe I should also get some reports confirming that you have some kind of schooling. We don't know how long this will last... and sooner or later someone will start asking questions. Best to be prepared.''

Dean couldn't argue with that, though he didn't have to like it. Just the idea of him staying a kid for more than few days was terrifying, but Sam was right.

''Okay,'' he said unhappily. ''Give Caleb a call. He should be able to fax you the copy of a birth certificate soon enough. As for the other things, they can wait... a few days,'' Dean added even before Sam opened his mouth to voice his protest. ''Maybe we won't need them. No sense to bother Caleb with it now.''

Sam nodded and turned when he saw a head peeking in. It was the nurse. She didn't say anything, just looked pointedly at the clock on the wall.

''Think it's my cue to leave. Behave, Dean,'' he said with a smirk and ruffled the light hair. Dean just rolled his eyes, too tired to try and pull away.

Sam was already by the door when he heard him call out.

''Sammy?''

''Yeah?'' he turned only to see a pair of sleepy eyes focused on him.

''Don't do anything stupid. Don't go after it alone.'' Sam blinked, because Dean's tone was clearly saying something else.

''I won't.''

"Promise me."

"I promise"

''Now go to sleep before the nurse thinks she needs to sing you a lullaby.''

The muffled 'jerk' that escaped from the already half asleep Dean made him smile.

'I love you too, little brother,' he thought and left.

xxx

Despite a good night's sleep, Dean felt more than a little cranky in the morning. His headache was still present and his side and ribs protested fiercely after the doctor's probing. Dean tried his best to hide his discomfort but he couldn't hide his nervousness. It was already nearing lunch and Sam was nowhere to be seen.

''When can I leave?'' he asked the doctor after he finished the exam, hoping to hell the man wasn't the patronizing type. He was in the hospital only a half a day, but he was already going crazy. He didn't mind the nurses; in fact he liked them very much. The only problem was that while he was using his charm to flirt with them, the nurses were going all maternal on him. Urgh! If he had to listen to 'oh, you're so sweet' once more, he swore he would start yelling. Where the hell was Sam?

Meanwhile the doctor had answered his question and had probably asked some of his own, when Dean suddenly realised he hadn't heard a word of what the doctor had said.

''Uh sorry, I just zoned out.'' Stupid thing to do, Dean thought and mentally gave himself a shake. When you're trying to convince someone that you're okay, it's a good idea to listen to them.

The doctor raised his eyebrow. ''Like I said, I would like to keep you here another day for observation.''

''But you told my brother that I can leave today,'' Dean protested. He knew he couldn't stay at the hospital any longerHe not only hated the place, he was scared that Sam would do something stupid while he was there, like going after Hannings on his own. To tell the truth, he was already planning to escape on his own if his brother didn't show up in the next sixty minutesLunchtime looked like the right...

''Dean?''

Oops, he did it again. Dean blinked and looked at the doctor who was now regarding him with concern, probably thinking about another test he could do. Just great.

''I'm sorry, I was just thinking about Sam. He told me he would come in the morning...''

''I am sure your brother is all right, Dean. But if it troubles you, why don't you ask the nurse? She can call him on his phone.''

''Yeah, I will do that. So can I leave today?''

''We will see,'' was all he got and the doctor left him with only the company of a seven year old Jamie who was already getting restless at the prospect of his parents coming. While the kid was silent through the night, Dean quickly realised that being cooped up with a hyperactive child with a broken leg wasn't any fun. Thank god for the Game boy and the Walkman! Dean just hoped Jamie had enough batteries to keep him playing for the rest of the day.

A high-pitched squeal announced the arrival of Jamie's mother, and Dean closed his eyes. He swore to himself that if Sam didn't come soon, he'd get the hell out of this place, even if only to find him and kick his ass for leaving Dean there. Shooting a look at the clock, Dean started counting. Fifty-seven minutes and he'd be gone.

Fifty-three minutes. Jamie was recalling his dream about Donkey Kong and Superman.

Forty-seven minutes. Jamie started singing.

Forty minutes. Jamie was still singing, even though his mother was trying to hush him by giving him a popsicle.

Thirty-five minutes. Jamie was humming, licking the popsicle.

Twenty-five minutes. Jamie started sobbing. His mom and the nurse were trying to get the stick from the popsicle out from under the cast, where he stuck it, trying to scratch. Dean watched the proceedings with growing respect to the people who raised hyperactive kids.

Twenty minutes. Dean was rubbing at his temples and groaning. Jamie's mom asked him if he was okay. He told her to concentrate on Jamie, who was still wailing. Now it was the stick from the popsicle that was making him itch.

Fifteen minutes. The lunch arrived a little sooner than Dean anticipated. He stared at the weird stuff on his plate and wondered if it was a good enough reason to cut short his deadline and take off right 's mom was watching him, as if reading his thoughts. She pointed at the plate with the same commanding look his mom used to give him when he didn't want to eat the spinach or the broccoli. Dean scowled at her, but she only glared back, not intimidated. Without a word he picked up the fork and started eating.

Five minutes. Lunch eaten, the empty plate was on the tray on the bedside table. Jamie was asleep and his mom had left to get herself something more substantial to eat. Dean threw away the blanket and carefully sat up. The room started spinning. He closed his eyes and waited for the dizziness to pass. Slowly, Dean slid off the bed onto his unstable legs. Another minute to get his balance and he was looking for some clothes. He made it to the middle of the room, heading toward the closet, when the door opened. Dean froze, cursing his bad timing.

''What the hell are you doing out of the bed?'' the voice asked him and Dean spun around, the surprise on his face warring with relief.

''Sam…" he said before he realised that moving so fast wasn't the best idea. The world tilted and he was falling. Damned concussion.

xxx

''Didn't I ask you to behave?'' Sam asked once Dean was safely tucked in bed and conscious again.

''I'm not a damn kid,'' Dean growled, keeping his voice low, conscious of the kid lying on the other bed. Sam rolled his eyes and pulled the curtain closed, giving them at least a feeling of privacy.

''Well, you're sure enough acting as one. What the hell were you trying to do, anyway?''

''Trying to get out of here so I could find out where the hell you were!'' Dean hissed angrily. ''You were supposed to come here in the morning, but you didn't even call. I thought something had happened to you.''

''No, you thought I had gone after Hannings alone,'' Sam replied equally annoyed. ''I told you I wouldn't do it, Dean. For once, you should trust me.''

Dean gaped at him open mouthed, then with an uncharacteristic blush looked away. It would've been funny, if not for the circumstances. Sam didn't want to hurt Dean, and if the truth were told, if he thought he would have a chance to get Hannings alone, he would've left Dean in the care of the hospital and finished the hunt alone. But every instinct in him screamed that going after Hannings alone and unprepared was suicide. He couldn't risk it, not now, not when Dean was so vulnerable.

''You and Dad are the only people I trust, Sammy. It's just... you are my responsibility; you were from the moment Dad put you into my arms. I am here to protect you. Not the other way around.''

''God Dean, I don't need to be protected. I am not a kid anymore, despite what you think. I can take care of myself, and I would like to think that I could take care of you too. Why is it different, Dean? You were there for me when you were only five. Do you really think I am not capable of being responsible?''

''It's just-'' Dean paused, not sure what he wanted to say. ''It's not your role.''

Sam raised his eyebrows. ''You're my brother. Protecting is a brother's role. Families should take care of themselves. Doesn't matter who is older. Or do you think that we can't have Dad's back just because he's the oldest?''

''No, I dunno. Never thought about it that way,'' Dean said with a thoughtful look, which then turned into a grin. ''Dude, did you just say that Dad is old?''

''I said he's the oldest, which isn't the same,'' Sam quickly added with a smirk of his own.

''Whatever,'' Dean laughed, then took a good look at his brother. Even though they were joking, Sam looked strained and there were the familiar shadows under his brother's eyes, speaking about the hard night. ''Nightmares?'' Dean asked suddenly and Sam grimaced. He'd hoped Dean wouldn't notice the circles under his eyes.

''I was up most of the night, looking around the net. Couldn't sleep. Next thing I know it's ten in the morning and I had to run to the library to get the fax from Caleb. While I was there, I dug through some newspaper articles. By the way, I haven't found a thing. I think it would be a good idea to go to the parish register. Maybe there would be some records about Hannings' son.''

''That the reason why you're late? Cause you overslept, huh?'' Dean commented, knowing that Sam was hiding something. He saw it in the way Sam's look wandered around rather than looking at him. ''So if it wasn't a nightmare that kept you awake, what was it? A vision?''

Sam let out a sigh and shook his head, frustrated that he couldn't hide it from Dean even though he had a concussion.

''I don't know if it was a vision or not. Seemed weird enough, but...something was missing.''

''What had you seen?''

''A boy, he was running through the forest. Something was chasing him and he was scared. There was a storm approaching. I didn't hear the thunder but saw the lightning. The boy ran into some caves, maybe an old mine. It got pretty confused from there. It was dark and I saw the scene from the view of the thing... the thing that was chasing him.'' Sam swallowed hard, suddenly feeling thirsty. The nightmare had woken him up not once but twice, and he couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding. Just thinking about it made his stomach clench. He felt a hand on his knee and looked up at Dean, seeing the encouragement to continue.

''There was something like an explosion… I'm not sure. Than a loud rumble, as if something was falling. Darkness. Then water. Water everywhere, and the feeling like I was drowning.'' He let out a deep breath, not even realising he was holding it.

''Do you know who that boy was?'' Dean asked quietly and was surprised to see the fear in Sam's eyes.

''I'm not sure. Could've been the Denim's boy, or Hannings' own son. Could've been someone else. But God, Dean, he looked so much like you.''

xxxxxxxxx

Dean didn't know what he hated more. Being cooped up in the hospital bed while his brother was out there 'investigating' and trying to find as much info as he could in the limited time they had, or waiting for Sammy to return. After five hours of doing both, Dean decided it didn't matter, because there was no way he intended to repeat the experience anytime soon.

At least now he knew where Sam was, or at least where he was headed some three hours ago, when Dean finally convinced him that finding out what happened to Hanning's son, if he indeed had had one, was far more important than keeping Dean company. Because Sam couldn't with one hundred percent certainty tell who the boy from his vision was, there was still a chance that there was someone else in danger. They couldn't afford to be losing time just because Sam suddenly felt the need to play Dean's keeper. Dean was starting to get nervous as he watched the clock on the wall, the time nearing for the doctor's rounds. He wanted Sam to be there with him, so he could convince the doctor to release him. But if Sam was nowhere to be seen, Dean sure didn't have a snowball's chance in hell to be released today. Gritting his teeth, he plastered one of his best smiles on his face when the doors opened, only to let it turn into a real one.

''Thank God you made it in time. I was worried you were gonna leave me here just so you wouldn't have to put up with me.''

Sam rolled his eyes and took a step aside to let the doctor in. Dean frowned, casting a suspicious look at his brother, before meeting the doctor's eyes.

''Hey Doc, I think I'm ready to go.''

''Aren't you the impatient one?'' the doctor laughed as he studied his chart.

''You can't imagine,'' Sam quipped, quirking his eyebrow at Dean's scowl.

''Well, we should take a look at how your memory is doing right now,'' the doctor mumbled and Dean spent the next few minutes trying to answer all the questions to the physician's liking. He hesitated at his birth date, almost saying the 'right' year, which would make him just a little too old right now. But he managed and after some probing, he was once again back to waiting. The doctor hummed, writing into the damned chart, then looking at Dean as if he was a rather interesting bug. It made him just a tad nervous and Dean cleared his throat. He shot a look at his brother, as if asking him to break the silence. Sam just shrugged, clearly not planning on intervening.

Finally the doctor lost his interest and turned to Sam.

''Are you planning on staying in the city for few days or do you want to travel with him?''

''We are staying,'' Sam replied calmly and Dean had a feeling that he already talked with the doc before they came after him. It bugged him a little that Sam was making decisions on his behalf, but then it wasn't like Dean could ask to be released AMA. By all appearances he was a minor, thus all his rights were in the hand of his 'younger' brother. Yeah, sometimes life really sucked.

Meanwhile the conversation continued and Dean realized they were already discussing the release. Letting out a sigh, Dean nodded his thanks to the doctor, who left to prepare the papers. Jamie in the next bed huffed, feeling ignored. He turned back to his game boy and Dean was already crawling out of the bed, only to be stopped by Sam.

''Hey, did you hear a word of what the doc said?'' Sam asked him annoyed, pushing him back before going to the closet and taking out Dean's jeans and shirt.

''Not really,'' Dean shrugged and reached for his shirt, glad that this time around there was no IV or other things to get rid of. Pushing back a moan, he managed to get his jeans on before the nurse came in. Putting on the shirt, he was ready to go.

Once in the car, Dean rested his head against the glass, glad to be out. Despite his efforts to look fine, just the walk to the car tired him, not to mention the fifteen minutes wait for the medication he was sure was totally unnecessary. For once he didn't turn on the radio, and opted for watching the people on the street, while the car slowly made it's way toward the motel. Only when Sam stopped and turned off the engine did Dean realise that they were still in Pendleton.

''What are we doing here?'' he asked, confused.

''I thought it would be best to get a room here, rather then return to Crystle town. They don't know I came with my 'older' brother, so there shouldn't be any questions.''

'And I thought it would be easier to keep you safe here,' Sam thought, but didn't say it out loud. He knew that Dean would want to get back to the hunt, but Sam wasn't ready to let him. Keeping him in some rusty motel room, twenty miles from Crystle town, was the easiest way to assure his safety.

Dean frowned at his brother's explanation. Of course he was right, but Dean still couldn't shake the feeling that Sammy was trying to get rid of him, to lock him away somewhere and finish the hunt alone.

'Damn you Sammy, I may look like a kid, but I am not stupid. You won't get rid of me so easily.'

Getting out of the car was a challenge and with a grimace, Dean shrugged off Sam's hand.

''Stop hovering Dude, I'm not some invalid,'' he growled.

''But you sure look like one…did you look in the mirror lately?'' Sam bit back as he opened the door to their room. Dean's only reply was a snort as he walked to the bathroom.

''Leave the door open,'' Sam shouted after him and shook his head as Dean showed him his middle finger and slammed the door shut. One minute later he could hear the running shower.

Sam walked to the door and turned the knob, glad to find it wasn't locked. While Dean was unaware of his presence, he took his brother's clothes and changed them for the new ones he had bought on his way to the hospital.

He shivered at the sight of blood on Dean's pant leg and the side of his shirt, where most of the bruises were located. When he had finally got a chance to talk with the doctor for longer than a minute, he had told him that Dean was really lucky. The car that had hit him had managed to slow down and the driver turned the wheel so Dean was caught by the side and thrown away, rather than diving head first into the windscreen. That had saved him from more serious injuries, though for Sam, even a concussion and bruised kidney looked like too much. Not to mention all the bruises he didn't even see, until his brother walked stiffly out from the bathroom.

''Thanks for the new shirt,'' Dean muttered, appreciating the simple white color, without any cartoon characters printed on it.

''Dude, if you wanted to get rid of the Scooby shirt, you should've asked. There are easier ways then to get it shredded by a car.''

Dean rolled his eyes and slumped into the chair. The bed looked much more comfortable, but he wasn't sure he could stay awake and he definitely wanted to know what his brother had found out.

''Hungry?'' Sam asked, and not waiting for the answer continued ''There is an Italian restaurant down the corner. Maybe I can get us some pizza. Or would you rather have pasta?''

Dean would rather have nothing, but he didn't say it. His appetite was shot to hell with the persistent headache, but he wasn't about to complain.

''Pizza is fine, Sammy. Why don't you tell me-'' but Sam was already out of the door.

''Great, I'll be back in five,'' Dean caught before the door closed and he let out a frustrated sigh. It looked almost like Sam was evading the subject, but of course that was ridiculous. Groaning, Dean got out of the chair and headed for the bed, deciding that being comfortable had more positives than being alert. His body still needed rest, however futile Dean's mind thought it to be. So grabbing the remote, he started shuffling through the TV channels, stopping on the news. When Sam returned with the box of pizza and coke, he was starting to nod off while the reporter announced another attack somewhere in the Middle East.

''Hey, Sleeping Beauty! Time for food.''

Dean jerked awake, automatically reaching for some weapon. He frowned in puzzlement when his hand found only the remote, then blinked.

''Shit, cut me some slack here, bro,'' he mumbled, annoyed by the fact that he didn't notice Sam's arrival, as well as pissed that his gun and knife were now decorating the interior of the car. He'd have to do something about it, screw Sam's concern of him being found armed. As if Sam carrying a loaded shotgun would go over any easier with the sheriff. Dean snorted.

''What?'' Sam asked with a cocked head.

''I need my weapons, Sammy.''

To Dean's wonder, Sam simply nodded. ''Okay, I already took the bag from the car. It's inside,'' Sam pointed to the closet Dean only now noticed. Without another word, he put a slice of pizza on the plate and pushed it into Dean's hand.

''Eat,'' he ordered and Dean gaped at him, more dumbfounded than really pissed.

''What the hell-''

''You want to help me with Hannings? Then start eating. The doctor in the hospital said you need rest and food, and that's what you'll have.''

Dean shook his head, his frustration edged with something else. Despite how annoying it was, the feeling that someone was taking over, for him not being the one responsible... it was good. Safe. Like during the time when his mother was still alive, and he didn't have the care of the world. Yes, he loved Sammy and took care of him, but there was also Mom and Dad, and they were taking care of him. That all changed rather quickly and even though John Winchester loved his sons, he never managed to give them the feeling of security again. There was always something…a distant threat, hanging like the sword of Damocles above their heads. So even if Dean now allowed Sam to enjoy the little 'role reversal', he didn't plan to keep up with it for any longer than he had to.

''Dean?'' Sam spoke and Dean realised he had once again zoned out. It was starting to worry him, though he knew once the concussion faded, he should be back to his old self. Well, as old as he could be.

''Hmm? What?'' he asked and grunted when the plate and pizza slid down his knees, onto the bed. He had totally forgotten about it.

''Are you okay?'' Sam couldn't stop the question, though he already knew the answer. But the response surprised him.

''Dude, does this look okay to you?'' Dean snorted, picking up the piece of ham from his shirt with disgust. ''This whole thing sucks. Just tell me that you found something useful in the birth records, or I swear I'll shoot someone.''

''As long as it isn't me,'' Sam said with a smirk that stopped Dean before he could make good of the threat.

''Bitch.''

''Jerk.'' Sam replied with a grin.

''Birth records?''

With a tired shrug, Sam flopped onto his own bed and rested his head against the wall.

''Looks like Susan Stockhart was telling us the truth. Hannings had a son, Calum. He was born in 1972 to Jacklyn Francis and Joe Hannings, as their only son. Died in 1981, one month after he turned nine.''

Well, that wasn't so surprising, seeing as Hannings was a killer. There was something that made him the monster he was. Of course, there was still the question of why Calum Hannings died so young.

''Accident,'' Sam said, reading his thoughts. ''There was no better explanation, though I doubt it was so simple.''

''What happened?'' Dean asked and took a bite of the already cold pizza. For some reason, Sam took his time with the answer.

''You remember what I told you about my dreams?''

''The mines,'' Dean nodded, turning a thoughtful look to Sam. ''So you're saying what you saw had already happened to Calum?''

''No, not really. I had a talk with the sheriff, not that it did much good, but he told me the name of the doctor who examined Calum's body. Luckily, he's still alive and ready to talk. I managed to catch him before his nap.''

''You were one busy bee, huh?'' Dean ribbed.

''Someone had to be, when you were stuck in the paediatrics,'' Sam jibed back with a smirk.

''Don't remind me,'' Dean groaned. ''So? What did the doc tell you?''

''Just that Calum drowned.''

''Huh?'' That wasn't what Dean had waited to hear. ''You're kidding me, right?''

''No. He even tested the water in his lungs – there was no chlorine in it, nothing to indicate that he drowned in the pool or bathtub. The doc thought it was plain rain water.''

''But?'' Dean had to ask. There was always some 'but', when Sam had that look on his face.

''Well, the doc found some traces of salt in his lungs and on his skin. There were also some bruises and scratches, but nothing to indicate that Calum was physically harmed.''

Even though Sam was still talking, Dean's mind was stuck on one word. Gaping, his eyes wide in surprise, Dean stared at Sam in disbelief.

''Salt! Did you just say that Calum drowned in salt water?''

''Um, not really. It's not seawater, but there were traces of salt in it. Not really a surprise if you know that they were mining salt.''

''You gotta be kidding, right?'' Dean shook his head and didn't know if he should laugh or scream in horror. ''There's no way a ghost, or whatever fucking thing this is – would take his victims into a mine full of rock salt!''

''Technically, the mines were already closed when Calum died. I believe the salt deposit was already depleted by then. But it really is weird and just a little scary.''

Dean rolled his eyes, bewildered. His headache had just escalated and he wasn't sure if it was thanks to the new information or simply the after effects of the accident. Both of them seemed like a good cause for a migraine.

''This is what you didn't want to tell me?'' he finally asked, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to alleviate the tension.

''Hey, I wasn't trying to hide it from you, Dean. Just... that wasn't the right time for it.''

''Right,'' Dean mumbled and threw a questioning look at Sam's notebook.

''So, did you get some police records?''

''No, I didn't have the time for it and the doctor told me there was no investigation. The boy was found on the shore of Crystle lake. Though the water here isn't salty, the coroner closed the case as an accidental drowning. It was in the middle of the summer and obviously, Joe Hannings wasn't pressing the officials to investigate deeper. They let it slip.''

''Yeah, and did they even consider that dear Daddy had something to do with it? Don't even answer that, Sammy. Where the hell was the kid's mother anyway?''

''She died before Calum turned five. Cancer.''

Dean wanted to say something, but he just let out a tired sigh. Yeah, one more similarity between Calum and himself. Their mother's died before they turned five. Was that what changed Joe Hannings? The death of his wife? And what would've happened with John Winchester if he hadn't had two kids to take care of?

John Winchester had something to fight for, something to focus his pain and anger. His obsession with revenge became the driving power of the Winchester family. John wasn't an abusive father. Despite everything, he loved his sons and tried his best to raise them. Dean knew that. But still there was that lingering feeling, that John's obsession was just another form of trying to deal. There was still the revenge left, but what was left for Hannings? He couldn't beat the illness. Couldn't track it down, lure it out of its hiding place and kill it. There was nothing to kill. The pain and loss could've easily turned inside and consumed the man, until there was only the monster left.

Sharp pain sliced through his head and Dean let out a groan, for a second pushing out everything, trying to handle the headache. Something cold was pressed on his forehead and he realised he wasn't sitting up but laying on his side, knees pulled up so he could alleviate some of the strain on his side.

''Thanks,'' he mumbled, opening his eyes when he felt the bed move, only to see Sam's concerned look.

''You okay?''

Dean gave his brother a half grin that turned into grimace. When Sam handed him a white pill and a glass of water, he downed it without protest.

''You should get some sleep. The doctor said the headaches could last several weeks. Are you feeling dizzy?''

''Nah, I'm good,'' Dean lied. Seeing the frown on Sam's face he knew he didn't do a good job with it.

''Guess I'll take some shut eye, huh?'' he said quickly and trying to divert Sam's attention, told him to find out more about the mines.

''I already downloaded some stuff, just need to go through it. Damn, and I thought I was done reading when I left college.''

''Dude, that's what you love about the hunt. The research,'' Dean muttered, already half asleep. Sam gave him a slight smile, but Dean didn't register it. He felt the hand rubbing his back, the circular motion lulling him to sleep. He thought about making some retort, to protest that he wasn't a kid, but it felt too damn good and relaxing. Dean gave a contented sigh, face sinking into the pillow.

Sam continued stroking his brother's back until he was sure that Dean was asleep. He then carefully stood up from the bed, tucking the blanket around Dean and made his way back to his own bed, where the notebook awaited. But it took him a few minutes to tear his eyes off the sleeping figure. It was eerily satisfying to just watch his brother sleep. To know that for the moment he was safe. He wondered if Dean felt the same after Sam was hurt. Probably yes.

With a sigh, he turned away and started reading. Dean was right when he said that Sam loved the research, and he was soon engulfed in the history of the mine.

He didn't even realise that he fell asleep. Snoring gently, his body relaxed and tiredly stretched itself out. His subconscious decided that now was the time…it wasn't long before he started twitching…one of his 'dreams' hit him.

But this wasn't just a dream, and Sam found himself standing on the road. There was a car parked nearby and two adults were arguing. Sam didn't know them, but that wasn't important. The cold hand on his mouth and around his waist was. The grip that left bruises, the fear that paralysed him…that was what was important. But it was the voice in his ear, the bad breath and the icy words that made Sam sit up in his bed and scream his brother's name.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read: Andrea (TangledPencils)

Dean blinked, not sure what had woken him up. Frowning in the darkness, he saw a figure sitting on the bed and heard heavy breathing.

''Sammy?'' he asked and was instinctively moving out of his bed, for the moment forgetting his injuries, though he remembered rather quickly when his side protested and he couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath. Hearing Dean gasp broke through Sam's hazy stupor and pulled him back to reality.

''Damn,'' he cursed, still hardly controlling his own heartbeat, but wanting – no, needing – to see that his brother was all right. Turning on the bedside lamp both Winchesters squinted as their eyes tried to adjust to the light.

''You okay?'' Sam asked almost simultaneously with Dean and he chuckled at the irony of that.

''W-what's wrong, Sammy?'' Dean pushed through gritted teeth, waving on his unsteady feet, not sure whether to go to Sam or sit back. He felt wobbly and a little dazed. Being woken up in the middle of the night after taking the pain pills didn't really bode well. His body made it's own choice and he flopped back on the bed, frowning.

''Nothing, Dean. Just go back to sleep,'' Sam said and struggled with the tangled sheets, trying to get out. Dean smirked wearily, his head cocked to the side, suddenly looking thoughtful.

''Another vision?''

''It's a dream, nothing more,'' Sam replied a little more harshly than he planned. Finally throwing the sheets back, he put his feet on the floor, but didn't get up. Instead he sighed, brushing a hand through his hair. He felt the sweat covering his body and shuddered. He needed a shower.

''It was about me?'' Dean asked, his voice sounding tired and as Sam looked at his brother, he could see he had trouble keeping his eyes open.

''Dude, lay down before you fall out of bed,'' he grumbled and pushed Dean back, ignoring the glare his comment had raised. He made a show of tucking him in, easily batting down the protesting hands.

''Was it Calum?'' Dean persisted, even though his eyes were already closed.

''It was just a dream, Dean. Nothing more. Go back to sleep. You're safe.'' And despite his will to stay awake, Dean succumbed to sleep, all the while cursing himself for taking the pill. He knew that Sam was lying, and under other circumstances, he wouldn't let it go. This time he didn't have a choice, as his own body betrayed him.

''I'll keep you safe, whatever it takes,'' Sam mumbled, fingers gently brushing through his brother's longer hair, before running them through his own with an almost savage gesture.

'I just need to find out how,' he thought as he silently made his way to the bathroom.

Closing the door, he sagged against it for a moment, trying to clear his mind. The dream was still there in the back of his mind, tangible like the sweat that covered his body. Shedding his clothes, Sam stepped into the shower and turned the water on, adjusting the temperature to a comfortable level. His mind wandered as he stood beneath the spray, almost slipping back into the dream before he realised what was happening Sam didn't know when the unknown boy waiting for his parents changed into Dean, or how Sam had become Hannings, he just knew that Dean was lying in his arms limply, like a rag doll and Sam feared to look down, too scared that he would see only a body. Then the vision mixed with another place and another time and he could see Calum running for his life, trying to hide from the storm…from the thing that was chasing him. They were in the mines, going deeper into the bowels of the earth when suddenly there was a loud crack and everything was flooded with water.

Sam gasped as the memory of the dream suddenly snapped, and he practically jumped out of the shower, the feeling that he was drowning too strong. Trying to silence his gasps, Sam put a fist to his mouth, muffling the sound. What he couldn't stop though was the fear for his brother.

'I can't let you go there Dean,' he muttered, shaking his head in resolution. No way was he letting Dean become the bait and end up like Calum or the Denim's boy. Even if it meant that Dean would have to relive his puberty once again.

Now he just needed to figure out how to make Dean agree with it.

xxx

After he came out of the bathroom, Sam checked if Dean was truly sleeping, then left the room in search of some coffee. The machine at the end of the corridor purred to life after he dug some coins from his pocket and fed them into the greedy coin slot. Cradling the cup of steaming liquid in his hands, Sam went outside, needing the fresh air. He flopped down to the curb in the parking lot, sipping at the coffee and grimacing at the taste. Sighing, he put it down and looked up at the sky as if the answers were printed in the stars. They weren't.

Sam bit his lip as he tried to think of a plan. He needed to get Hannings before the man could harm Dean, or someone else. He also needed to do it without his brother. Now there were the questions: How to put Hannings out of his misery, and how to keep Dean away from the danger. It was a paradox. Sam had less trouble imagining Hannings being vanquished than he had with keeping Dean out of it.

Yeah, he could've just locked the boy in their hotel room. He could also give him his pills, as they obviously put Dean to sleep. Maybe he could resolve the problem before Dean even woke up. Nah, Sam shook his head. That was unlikely. And he didn't feel all that comfortable with the idea of drugging Dean, for several reasons. He had to leave Dean alone, and Dean was just too damn vulnerable right now. Even as a kid, Dean could take care of himself. He was better conscious than drugged. And then there was the last thing that really troubled Sam.

What if he couldn't take Hannings out and something happened to him? Sam wasn't all that scared of getting hurt, but right now, he couldn't afford it. Just the idea of leaving Dean alone – of leaving a nine year old Dean alone, with a father who didn't answer their phone calls, without any other relatives... it was just too damn scary. Sam didn't doubt that Dean would be capable of surviving, but he wouldn't be able to hide from the system. 'Foster care' and 'orphanage' were just too strong a set of words to stomach.

Sam picked up his cup of coffee only to realise that it was cold. One look at his watch and he blinked in surprise. He had been sitting there on the curb for a good hour and he still didn't know what to do.

With a frustrated sigh, he threw the cup into the nearest trashcan and returned to their room, only to find Dean still asleep. No surprise there, after all, it was around four in the morning. Lying down on the bed, Sam stared into the dark. After ten minutes he knew there wouldn't be any more sleep for him that night. He took the laptop from the table and turned it slightly so the light from the monitor wouldn't shine into Dean's eyes. He had some research to do.

xxx

Getting up in the morning was never his forte, and it was an even less inviting thing to do when you felt like a car crash victim, which he was. Oops, not the best thing to remember before his first cup of coffee. With a moan, Dean opened his eyes only to close them again at the sharp light coming from the window.

''Somebody, shut off the sun, or shoot me,'' he grumbled and was rewarded by a chuckle.

''Rise and shine, Deany... it's already past ten.''

''So?'' he asked, then frowned and shot his brother a murderous look. ''What did you just call me!''

Sam only smirked in reply and held up a cup of coffee as a peace offering. Dean took a sip and grimaced, returning the cup to his brother.

''Urgh, when did coffee start tasting like poison?''

''I think it tasted like that for ever,'' Sam frowned and tasted the coffee. He shrugged. Nothing out of the ordinary. ''Maybe your taste buds have changed. After all, you're a kid,'' he added with a grin and ducked the flying pillow.

''Hey, careful! I almost spilled it!''

''Yeah, as if that would be a bad thing. Oh man, I feel like I spent the last week in a bed,'' Dean complained and lazily stretched, mindful of his bruises.

''Dude, you were thrown into the way of a car. You really thought you could take one day off and everything would be okay?'' Sam asked, voice full of sarcasm and something else, something that Dean couldn't for the life of him decipher and it made him look over at his brother in concern.

''Grumpy this morning, aren't we?'' he commented, and noticed the dark circles under Sam's eyes and then he remembered. ''That happens when you don't get your beauty sleep, Sammy. So spill, what kept you awake through the night? And don't give me any bullshit, Sam. I know you.'' Dean added when he saw that thoughtful look on Sam's face, the one that said 'lie' quite loudly.

Sam rubbed at his eyes and sighed. What was he supposed to do?

''It was just another stupid dream, Dean. I got up and drank a cup of coffee, so I couldn't get back to sleep. That's all, really.''

''Yeah, and I am six feet tall and looking twenty-eight,'' Dean grumbled in reply as he carefully got out of the bed, shuffling to the bathroom as if he was sixty. Sam shook his head and turned back to the laptop on the table, thinking the subject had been dropped, and he'd escaped the third degree questioning. When Dean emerged a few minutes later and sat on the chair opposite him with 'that glare' on his face, Sam knew he was screwed.

''What was it about, Sammy? Who's in danger now?''

Sam realised that however strong his desire to protect him, Dean wouldn't accept his protection any more than he would've when he really was only nine. And that irked the 'younger brother' almost as much as what he was about to do.

''It came out pretty mixed up, Dean. I saw Calum, but then it was you... and I think I also saw the Denim's.''

Dean's eyes perked.

''What about them?''

''The parents were arguing over something. Car packed up with their things. The boy Patrick was outside, down the road. I think he walked off, towards the forest, trying to get away from the argument. That was when Hannings caught him.''

Dean frowned, trying to imagine the scene. There was still something missing from it.

''What about the parents? Why did they stop on the road – just to have a shouting match?''

Sam shrugged. It wasn't so unusual. He remembered several times John Winchester stopping the car just so he could concentrate on an argument with Sam. It often ended up with Sam storming off and taking a five-minute walk, while Dean stayed in the car and tried to reason with their father. Then the horn would blare and Sam would return, slumping into his seat and not talking with anyone for another hour, not that he wouldn't want to, but because his dad turned on the radio and it was impossible to get a sound through it.

''It's nothing unusual,'' Sam conceded and Dean must've remembered their rides too, because he nodded.

''Still, the sheriff told me there was blood on the car, indicating that they drove over some animal.''

''Maybe that's the reason why they stopped. Patrick could've wandered off. It's not really important now.''

''Yeah, the question we should ask is 'why the Denim's'. What was so special about the kid?''

''He looked a lot like Hannings son. Could be that simple.''

''Nah,'' Dean shook his head. ''Plenty of kids look like that. Hannings chose Patrick. Remember what Susan told us? Hannings was probably the reason why they decided to skip town. So he must've bothered them earlier.''

''No, there had to be something else. When I checked at the library earlier, there was no mention about other boys missing. Not before, and definitely not after the Denim's vanished. And that was a good ten years after Calum died. After that, nothing.''

''Well, I think that the 'nothing part' is due to the Denim's trying to drive Hannings nuts and then it was them haunting the forest. Hannings didn't make an appearance until we burned those bones. Why Patrick was his first and only victim after Calum died, I don't have an answer to that,'' Dean said openly, then grimaced as his stomach grumbled.

''Hungry?'' Sam asked. Dean gave him a half shrug. He hadn't eaten much yesterday, and it wasn't like he had too much of the pizza last night. ''There' s a Chinese take out down the corner, I'll be back in a minute.''

''I don't really want Chinese, Sammy. What about we get some burgers?'' Dean asked, putting emphasis on the 'we'. When Sam opened his mouth to protest, Dean raised his eyebrow, ready for the argument. Sam huffed and shrugged.

''Whatever. But don't wait for me to get you out of the hospital if you collapse. Shoot, I'd make sure you get all the tests done twice before they release you.''

''Why, Sammy, and I thought you didn't care,'' Dean bit back with a 'You wouldn't dare' look in his eyes. Sam flashed him a 'You bet I would, bro,'' smile and Dean gulped, suddenly sure that Sam would do it, just to teach him a lesson. Damn this whole 'being a kid again' thing.

xxx

Dean was in the bathroom, trying to wipe the ketchup off his shirt, to no avail. The red stuff clung to the white shirt like chewing gum to a boot sole, and he only managed to smear it. Now he looked like the main murder victim out of a horror movie, the red stain covering his chest looking a lot like blood. Combined with the visible bruises on his face and the slight limp he had developed due to his bruised leg, he didn't wonder at the frightened looks he got just on his way to the toilets. Clutching at his side protectively surely didn't help. With a sigh, he turned on the water and once again tried to wash off the ketchup.

It was really the waitress's fault, he thought in frustration. Of course, Sam's comment didn't help any. Sitting at the table, Dean for a moment had forgotten his predicament, and had mistakenly thought the smile the waitress had sent his way was a flirtation. Of course, he smiled one of his own charming smiles. When she brought the burgers, he started openly flirting with her and she reciprocated quite easily. He was about to open the bottle of ketchup when she spoke.

''Ain't that a cute little boy?'' she purred and looked at Sam. ''I bet your wife is really proud of your son,'' she added, obviously trying to find out if Sam was taken for. Sam was just drinking his soda and hearing that, he gasped wide-eyed then started coughing as the liquid ended up in the wrong pipe. Dean for his part was trying to open the damn bottle when he heard the comment. Putting more force to the act, the cap flew off and the contents spilled all over the table and his shirt. Sam was still trying to catch his breath and the waitress was apologising, when Dean grumpily excused himself.

Now he sighed heavily, realising there was just no way he could clean the once white shirt. Shivering a little as the cloth was wet on his skin, and feeling just a little mortified, he shuffled back to their table. Sam threw him one look and turned away, hardly stopping the chuckle.

''I'll wait for you in the car,'' Dean said in a growl and left the restaurant. Only as he was standing by the car did he realise that Sam had the keys. Letting out another growl, he leaned against the hood, waiting. At least there weren't many people on the street, and he managed to beat off the surprised stares with one of his glares. Though when the third elderly woman stopped by him with that concerned gaze, he couldn't help but shout out loud:

''It's just damn ketchup!''

The woman recoiled, and Dean let out a sigh. God, what was taking Sam so long?

''Real smooth, little brother,'' came the answer in the form of a grinning Sam Winchester.

''Shut up!'' was all Dean said before he slid into his seat, grumbling. ''Well, any smart ideas of where to go now, 'Daddy'?'' he asked after a moment.

''I think our motel room would be the wisest target, seeing as you need to change. Then perhaps I should go to the Land Registry and find some plans of the mines. I have a feeling we'll need them soon.''

''Good idea,'' Dean said, calming down. ''So do you have a plan for how to get Hannings?''

Sam was glad Dean took that moment to look out of the window, because he wasn't sure what expression he would've seen on his face otherwise. Probably clenched teeth and a death grip on the wheel. Sam took a deep breath and when Dean looked at him a few seconds later, curious about the silence, he shot him a reassuring smile.

''Well, we should wait until you get your strength back.''

''I'm fine,'' Dean said automatically. All he got in answer was a raised eyebrow and a disbelieving huff.

''Yeah, right. I'd rather trust what I see. Right now, you wouldn't be able to outrun a five year old and if what happened in the forest with Hannings is any indication, you'll need to do a lot of running. I don't like to use you as bait at any time, but using you for that when you can hardly move won't happen – period.''

Dean opened his mouth, ready to argue, but clamped it shut when the wailing of a siren sounded from the intersection. In the next moment they could see two police cars and an ambulance making their way to the main road. Another cop was standing on the corner and talking into his radio. Sam slowed down the car and parked it only a few yards from him, pretending to look through a map. In reality, both brothers were listening to the young cop's excited voice.

''Are you sure it's the Sheriff? Whew, and I thought the guy would die of old age before he'd be forced to pull his gun.''

The brothers looked at each other, unsure of what was really going on. The cop obviously didn't know all the details either, because he froze at the reply from the radio.

''You saying he wasn't shot? Then what the hell happened?''

''A broken neck? You have to be kidding,'' unbelieving, the cop shook his head and said something that sent a shiver down Dean's spine. ''Yeah, they just passed me. They should be in Crystle Town in twenty minutes. But if what you say is true, the guy doesn't need the ambulance anymore.''

That was all they heard before the cop turned and frowned at them, only now realising what he was discussing. Sam faked a call on his cell, turned the car through a U turn and drove back the way they had come.

''Do you think it was him?'' Dean asked, his voice raspy. ''Hannings?'' he added.

''I don't know,'' Sam replied as the marker on the roadside told them they were leaving Pendleton. But even as he took a side road to Crystle Town, he remembered that feeling he had had last night, when he woke up from the nightmare. The feeling that someone was about to die.

xxxxxxxxx

''Stay in the car,'' Sam ordered as soon as he turned off the engine and Dean blinked in surprise, his hand already on the door.

''What? Why?'' he asked, annoyed.

''Because there's no way they'll tell me what happened if I take you there with me. You still look as if someone beat the crap out of you. The last thing I need is them thinking it was me, so stay put and I'll try to find out what happened to the sheriff.''

''Just great,'' Dean shook his head as Sam got out of the car. He was about to open his door and at least take a look around the parking lot, stretch his legs maybe, when Sam's head peeked back in.

''Don't leave the car Dean. I mean it. Patrick was snatched on the road. You don't know where Hannings is right now.''

''Dude, chill out! There's at least half of the town assembled here. What can happen?'' The only answer he got was a pair of raised eyebrows and a resolute 'Stay inside!' before Sam retreated to the crowd.

''Stay, sit, what the hell am I, a dog?'' he shook his head in frustration. How did it come to Sam giving out orders? And just why the hell wasn't it Sam who turned nine, instead of Dean? It would have been a hell of a lot easier.

But noooooo, the spell fell on him and Dean sighed, remembering the conversation they had with Susan Stockhart just before Hannings attacked him.

''Why?'' Dean asked for the fifth time and still doubted he would get the answer. It was as if the woman was doing everything to turn the conversation somewhere else.

''I told you, the spell was made specially for Hannings. My sister was a white witch, she couldn't cause any harm, not even to an evil person like Hannings. But she knew that someone would come and release the spirits of the family, thus also allowing Hannings to surface.''

''Yeah, we already know that,'' Dean grumbled. ''I know that I need to be the bait, and that Hannings will only go after children, whatever sick reason he has for that. I understand. But why me? Why not Sam or someone else? You know, those bones could've been found by anyone. They could've been simply buried without being salted and burned, and the family would've haunted this place forever. Did it even occur to your sister what would've happened?''

''But it didn't, did it? I'm sure my sister knew there will be someone who knew what to do. But you're right about one thing. It could've easily been your brother turning into a kid.''

''What?'' This time it was Sam who asked the question indignantly, and Dean wondered what that meant.

''Well, you were there just like Dean. But the spell chose him." At that moment Susan frowned, as if thinking about it. ''There must've been something...'' and she looked at Dean as if trying to see right into his heart. He squirmed a little and looked away.

''I think something happened to you in the not so distant past, something that made you feel insecure. The spell my sister cast was a powerful one. It could've easily latched onto that feeling and choose you to be the one.''

''That's bullshit,'' Dean bit back a little harshly, as if she was accusing him of some wrongdoing. ''I was doing just fine before your sister's spell backfired.'' And for a second he even believed it himself but one look at Sam and he could see the spark of guilt in his eyes, the downcast look. If Amely Stockhart hadn't been already dead, he would've made sure to burn her remains now.

''It doesn't matter anyway,'' he grumbled trying to steer the conversation back to Hannings. ''What's important is to send this bastard to hell before I have to relive my puberty. Any idea how we do that?''

xxx

Dean looked out of the window, his eyes searching for Sam. He saw him talking with a young cop, one he remembered seeing at the sheriff's office few days ago. They were a little distance from the crowd, but there were still a few people in earshot and judging by the look on their faces, they were listening quite carefully. With a faint grin, Dean opened the door and left the car. He would be damned if he'd let his kid brother boss him around no matter what the circumstances.

Seeing as Sam didn't need his help in the matter, Dean headed away from the crowd, down the parking lot. There was a playground but it was rather empty. Even though most of the kids were in the school, Dean still thought it weird. But then, Crystle Town was a small place and probably everyone knew that the Sheriff didn't die a natural death. Keeping their kids inside was a safe thing to do.

Dean walked slowly to a bench, his eyes trailing to his brother who was still talking with the cop, though they had already moved out of earshot, to the obvious dismay of the crowd. Sighing, Dean sat down, grimacing as the movement pulled at his tender side, reminding him of the rest of the bruises. He hoped that Sam would finish soon with some much needed insight on the case, so they could finish it and get back to normal. Dean snorted at that and turned, when he saw a movement from his right.

''Hey,'' a fair haired boy uttered shyly.

''Hey,'' Dean replied, unsure. He usually wasn't afraid of kids, but being one made him a slightly more nervous person. Probably because the kids anticipated him to act like them, while Dean had trouble acting like a kid even when he really was nine years old. Seeing the things he saw usually did that to a person.

''I'm Dean.'' Well, starting with your name was always the best option, whether it was false or real.

''Is that blood?'' the boy asked, and pointed at the stain on his shirt. Dean grimaced.

''Nah, just ketchup.''

''So what happened to your face?'' the boy kept up the questions, sitting next to Dean. He looked oblivious to the crowd standing before the sheriff's office. Maybe he was just used to the commotion, after all, the town had had its fair share of weird excitement with ghosts and things in the last months.

''I was in an accident,'' Dean said and frowned when he saw the knowing look on the boys face. As if he was in on some secret. But it wasn't a happy face, and Dean had to ask.

''What?''

''Accident, huh? And just what did you screw up to get in one?''

Dean opened his mouth in surprise, wanting to ask what the hell he meant, when the boy turned his head and he noticed a bruise on his cheek. It was already fading, but he could still see the typical prints left by a slap. Gritting his teeth, Dean realised what the boy was talking about and fought hard to contain his fury.

''I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,'' he muttered, not really agreeing, but the boy nodded, taking it as an answer. ''What about you?'' Dean couldn't stop himself from asking.

''I missed a shot.''

''Huh?''

''We were out hunting. There was a beautiful doe, drinking from the stream. She didn't know we were there. I had a clear shot…he told me to kill her…but there was a fawn next to her. It was too young to survive without its mother, so I missed. They were startled by the shot and ran away and he got mad.''

The kid spoke about it calmly, as if it was an everyday occurrence, but Dean could feel his blood boiling. He knew what it was to go out hunting at that young age. How hard it was to pull the trigger when you knew the bullet would kill. He still remembered the hunting trip with his father and Sam, the one where they weren't hunting anything supernatural. John was teaching him how to shoot the rifle at moving objects, but it was mostly rabbits or ducks. They encountered a deer once, but John just watched the animal through the sight. When the deer vanished in the bushes and Dean asked why he didn't shoot, John looked down at his son.

'We hunt things that come from the dark. This creature is not one of them.''

Dean hadn't understood it then and he wasn't sure he understood it now. After all, they had killed dozen of rabbits and ducks that summer. What he did understand was that John had never hit either of his children, even if they gave him a reason. There were other things that worked far better…like giving them his 'disappointed' glare. That sure worked on Dean every time.

''Who is he?'' Dean asked, even though he could guess the reply. The boy just looked at him with raised eyebrows, as if wondering if they were really on the same wave-length. Seeing the sudden wariness, Dean squirmed. He was about to say something, to break the silence, when the boy spoke, his voice clipped.

''My father. Why? Who hurt you?''

''I told you, it was an accident,'' Dean muttered and was surprised by the laughter.

''Yeah, aren't they all?'' the boy said, the sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Dean didn't know how to react. He wanted to get the guy hurting his son and beat the crap out of him, get him put behind bars in jail, whatever, just to stop the abuse. But he was also aware of the pressing matter he and Sam needed to resolve. Not to mention that they weren't used to dealing with 'real life' problems like this one. Still, he had to do something.

Shooting a glance toward the crowd, Dean frowned when he didn't manage to locate Sam. He was still looking at the parking lot, when a soft gasp made him turn.

''What?'' he asked with concern, when he saw the ghostly pale face with the wide eyes staring at someone in the crowd.

''H-he found me!'' the boy's voice had risen about an octave and Dean could see the shivers coursing through his body. This was far beyond just getting few slaps, he thought with rage. The boy was terrified. ''Run!'' he cried out just as Dean reached out and tried to pull him closer to himself. His fingers missed the boy's arm by mere inches when he turned and started running.

''Damn it!'' Dean swore when he realised just where the boy was headed. ''No! Come back!'' he shouted but the boy was already tearing through the bushes, unheeding of the warning. Dean threw a look behind, and didn't see anyone chasing after him. But he knew the threat didn't come from behind. It came from the forest. Whatever the boy was running from, it couldn't be as bad as falling into Hannings hands. With another curse, Dean realised that none of the bystanders seemed to notice the panicked retreat and Sam was still nowhere to be seen. Making his choice, Dean took off after the boy.

xxx

Sam was taking his time to return to Dean, mostly because he wasn't sure what to tell his brother. He had managed to get the information out of the sheriff's deputy, when he introduced himself as a big city journalist working on a hot story about the mysterious happenings around the town The kid was spilling out facts even before Sam pulled out his notes.

''So can you tell me what happened, deputy...''

''Roger Ginger,'' the cop eagerly supplied. ''With a G.''

''Mr. Ginger, what happened?''

''Roger please,'' he said quickly and Sam pushed back the urge to roll his eyes. ''Umm, you know I shouldn't even be telling this to you, the investigation is still going on, you know. But you won't publish the story until we've solved it, right?"

''Yeah, don't worry. I'm still working on it, but I want to submit a complete story, not bits and pieces, so it's ok, you can talk,'' Sam assured the deputy.

Letting out a sigh, the deputy looked around and pulled him a little to the side. Not totally out of earshot, but the slight wind and the chattering around them was enough to interfere with anyone trying to listen to them.

''Well you see, we had this problem…there's supposed to be some ghosts in the forest,'' he started, then startled a little as he realised what he said. ''Umm, not that I believe in ghosts or anything, we just don't know who's the culprit.''

''Yes, I already heard about it. What happened to the sheriff?'' Sam pushed, wanting to get to the core of the thing, before some of the other cops that were milling around could interfere.

''A few days ago we got some call that there was another disturbance in the forest, near one of the old cabins. We got there and found traces of a fire, but there was no real damage. I don't know what made the sheriff return to the place, especially after it got dark. There were some notes on his desk, old files concerning this guy named Joe Hannings. He used to own this cabin up there. Anyway, I think the Sheriff wanted to check out the guys cabin again. Dunno why. To my knowledge, the guy is long dead and the cabin was searched with dogs…nothing new to find. It was already late and I left for home. The sheriff stayed. When I returned to work the next morning, the sheriff wasn't there. He wasn't at home either. He just left a note that he had to check out something in one of the cabins. When he didn't return for the scheduled meeting, I called some backup and we started the search. We found him on the same place where that fire was two days ago.''

''How did he die?'' Sam asked, getting impatient. He was getting nervous and he tried to catch a glimpse of his brother, but the view of the Impala was obscured by the parked police car. Little did he know he should've looked somewhere else.

''Broken neck,'' the deputy supplied with a disbelieving grunt, then grimaced. ''We found him lying under one of the trees, his neck at a really weird angle. No signs of a fight. He had his gun in the holster. Nothing was missing.''

''So uh, what do you think happened to him?''

''Who knows? He could've fell from the tree, for all I know. The coroner will tell us more, hopefully.''

''Was there anything strange on the scene?'' Sam pressed, but instead of answering him, the deputy frowned, belatedly casting a suspicious eye on Sam. Suddenly remembering that although he was a reporter, he was also a stranger, and that some details of the scene should probably be kept away from the press, the deputy became hesitant in replying.

Seeing Ginger's reluctance to continue, Sam quickly thought of a way to get him talking again. "I'll be wanting to get your photo for the article you know, and it'll look really good under a headline of 'Deputy Ginger solves Murder and Mayhem Mystery'," He spread his hands in the usual gesture of a headline, and watched as the deputy's eyes lit up with imagined fame. 'For Pete's sake,' Sam thought, 'this guy is just sooooo gullible, I feel guilty making the motor-mouth believe this bullshit'.

'I really need all the facts you know, otherwise the article might not be printed…come on, there must've been something. You wouldn't call the whole Pendleton police force if your sheriff simply fell from the tree,'' Sam pressed, seeing the doubt fading. He knew there was something, he saw it on the cop's face. That excited glint in his eyes. And he knew he would tell him.

''Maybe it didn't have anything to do with the Sheriff,'' Roger Ginger started, unconsciously scratching his chin. Sam nodded, urging him to speak.

''But we found a note scratched into the tree, just above the Sheriff's head. It looked fresh.''

''What note?'' Sam asked, his eyes getting wider.

''It said only 'I am waiting.' Nothing more.''

That was five minutes ago and Sam quickly excused himself. Even if the note was simple, he knew what it meant, and he was afraid that Dean would know it too. But he couldn't keep that kind of information from him – not when Hannings could easily take another victimHe knew Dean wouldn't be happy to know that the day of rest they took cost someone's life, but he had to tell him. The only question was what would happen afterwards. But all these questions were pushed back with a new, more urgent one when Sam finally reached the Impala.

''Dean! Where the hell are you?''

xxx

Returning to consciousness was never his favourite thing, not when he left it in such a sudden and painful way. He remembered running, or at least trying to, as his battered body didn't allow him to move very knew he was shouting after the boy to stop, but he didn't listen and Dean realised with panic that they were heading deeper into the forest, away from the road and from Sam. Even though Hannings cabin was several miles away and probably not exactly in this direction, he knew that didn't mean they were out of harm's way. He couldn't hear the activity from the parking lot anymore and he knew that sooner or later he would have to stop.

There was no chance in catching up with the boy, not when every step he took made him cringe, and his hand was already clutching his side with more force than was good for it. The spiking pain of a stitch added it's protest to the growing pain in his side, the bruised kidney started to throb in time with his heartbeat, and every bruise he had was warring with the pain his side was giving him.

By the time he definitely lost the boy from his sight, he was panting heavily and was about ready to collapse. He never even heard the approach of the enemy, only felt the familiar coldness envelop him, pushing the pain back, along with his consciousness.

It could've been ten minutes or ten days ago. Now he was half laying half leaning against something hard and uncomfortably cold. He slowly opened his eyes, but saw only darkness. Swallowing hard, Dean tried to contain his fear. He knew he had to concentrate and get away. Making a quick internal check, he realised that he hadn't gained any other injuries,though he doubted his old ones would thank him for the earlier activity. Trying to move, he pushed back the groan that threatened to come. Yep, his knee and his side were definitely worse. On the plus side though, Dean realised his hands weren't tied up and even though in pain, he could move around freely.

With a deep sigh, he decided to rest a minute before trying to get up on his feet. Listening, he tried to find out more about his surroundings. His hand brushed against the wall he was leaning on, and he was surprised to find it a little rough. Frowning, he pulled the hand back and experimentally licked his finger. Yep, it was salt all right. That could mean only one thing. He was in the mines. But why? And where was Hannings?

It was time to get up. Slowly, he managed to stand, fighting off the sudden nausea that the movement caused. It wasn't easy as he couldn't see anything , and his balance was off. He stood still for a moment, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, concentrating on his roiling stomach and telling it to settle down. After a minute, Dean sucked in a breath and took a step. The echo was surprisingly loud and he almost jumped out of his skin when it was followed by a clang. Dean froze.

''Who's there?'' he asked and though he was prepared for the echo, it still surprised him.

''D-dean?'' a small, scared voice called out and Dean realised it was the boy.

''Seems like he got us both,'' he mumbled, then cringed as his own words were thrown back at him.

''I'm sorry. I thought I could loose him in the bushes. It always worked before. I didn't want to get you into trouble too.''

''Hey, kiddo, it's okay. Can get into trouble all by myself,'' Dean chuckled. ''Are you okay?''

''Yeah,'' came the sniffled reply and the sounds of shuffling.

''Do you know where we are?''

''The mines,'' he said quietly.

''Do you remember what happened?''

''He caught us. That's all.''

''Right,'' Dean groaned and tried to find out where the kid was.

''Hey, can you keep talking so I can find you?''

''What do you want to talk about?''

''Well, for a start it would be good to know your name,'' Dean said with a grunt as he stumbled over his own feet. ''Hey, you okay?'' he asked in concern when there was only silence.

''Yeah. I was just thinking. Do you think we will get out of here before he returns?"

''I will sure as hell try, kid.''

The boy chuckled. ''You know, I think I'm older than you. Why don't you stop calling me 'kid'?''

''Sure, as soon as I know what to call you,'' Dean replied, his hand trailing the wall for support.

''You can call me Calum.''

Dean's hand froze and he couldn't help the gasp that escaped him. But any reply he could've made was stopped when a teasing voice boomed through the mines.

''Where is my boy?''


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read: Andrea (TangledPencils)

Where is my boy?

Dean couldn't stop the shiver, just as Calum couldn't stop the terrified yelp. What confused Dean though was when he heard Calum's voice whispering in his ear.

''I'm sorry. I must go.''

"Yeah, don't we both" Dean thought but didn't say it, because suddenly he was surrounded by sharp light. He grunted and instinctively shielded his eyes, nearly blinded by the glare. His eyes watered, and he blinked, trying to adjust his vision as quickly as he could, feeling the threat approaching, hearing the ridiculously happy whistling. Backing away he bumped into something and turned, thinking it was Calum, but instead was surprised to see it was a white sparking wall. As his eyes became used to the light, he could take his first good look at his surroundings.

The sight made him gasp in awe. The room was huge. It could've been as high as forty feet but Dean couldn't even guess how wide it was. There were pillars of rock salt supporting the roof, crisscrossing the whole room so it looked much like a 3D checkerboard.

For a moment he wondered where the light coming from, then he noticed the small reflectors spaced out on the floor, one illuminating several pillars. He was about to point out that the salt looked much like ice, when he realised that Calum was gone. The ghost of the boy probably decided to skip town, Dean thought bitterly.

''Shit!'' he cursed and started when he heard his own voice echo through the hall. Cringing, he listened as the whistling momentarily stopped, only to be replaced with a loud chuckle.

''Ah, aren't you a dirty mouth?'' resounded through the mines in a scolding tone and Dean jumped at how close it sounded. ''Time to teach you a lesson, boy." The whistling resumed, announcing the nearing threat, but Dean didn't wait, he bolted, suddenly quite aware of the need to leave.

He didn't know which way was out, there were too many corners. All he could do was to get away from the whistling. He turned to his right and took off at the fastest speed his wobbly legs allowed him.

xxx

Sam knew he couldn't panic. After five minutes of vainly searching he also knew that Dean wasn't just pushing his buttons and playing hide and seek. Dean was missing and in all probability didn't take off on his own. Just to make sure, Sam looked into the trunk where they kept their guns. Nope, nothing was missing, not even the extra ammunition, so whatever Dean was dealing with, he had only his knife and the 9mm he insisted on wearing…and his cell phone. Sam belatedly remembered the phone and pushed back the urge to smack himself. He quickly took out his own cell and dialled Dean's number. The hope quickly faded though when the operator's message announced that he was unreachable, probably out of the signal's range.

''I'm such an idiot!'' Sam couldn't stop the curse. He ignored the curious glances he got from the passers-by and reached into the carpicking up a handful of assorted maps. Finding the right one, his finger traced the trail he would have to take. Not hesitating another moment, Sam got into the car, started the engine and set off.

xxx

Dean wasn't used to being afraid. Sure he feared for Sam, for his dad, even for the innocents that they met on their way, but he wasn't used to being afraid for himself. He was now in a nine-year-body, being chased through the labyrinth of an underground mine, dodging between the room wide pillars of rock salt, trying to run from some crazy ghost, and feeling the fear eating at him. He couldn't in all honesty even call what he was doing so pitifully slowly 'running'.

Dean was never more pissed at his own body's limitations than now. The muscles in his side protested heavily and his right knee was about to give up. He was holding himself at a steady pace by pure will and he wasn't sure if he could keep it going long enough. The whistling had stopped a while ago and however quiet Dean tried to be, the only thing he heard was his own ragged breathing and his feet clunking on the floor with nerve wrecking noise. There were no sounds indicating another presence. Dean let himself hope that Hannings had lost interest in him and had decided to go and haunt some poor people in the forest, but even he realised it was just wishful thinking.

He was lost. Even though he could see a fair distance along the corridors between the pillars, all he saw was white walls that made him feel trapped. The only consolation he had was the fact that it was salt and not ice, otherwise he would've already frozen to death. Not that he felt warm right now. He ducked behind another pillar, taking a chance that he would run straight into Hannings, but was frustrated to still see no sight of an exit…was there one?

Dean paused and leaned against the raw wall, taking a moment to rest and to listen. Everything was silent. No sign of Hannings or Calum and Dean gritted his teeth, trying to think. He couldn't be running around like a wild chicken forever. He needed to find the way out and the sooner the better. There was no way of telling how soon Sam would come to the rescue or if he would even be in time. It wasn't like Dean planned on waiting for his kid brother to rescue his ass…thanks, but no thanks. He just needed to find a way to get out; preferably before Hannings got tired of the hide and seek they were obviously playing.

Okay, time for a plan. Dean took the cell phone from his pocket and was dismayed to see that there was no signal, although if he stopped to think about it, it wasn't surprising. 'What else might be useful?' Dean thought and tapped at his pockets. A small pack of M&M's in his back pocket, by the feel of them already melted. Luckily the pack wasn't open and the chocolate didn't stain his pants. Well, he could still drop them one by one to make a trail marking his way…nah it would be a waste.

He touched the 9mm tucked in the back of his jeans but left it there. No sense in taking it out. The bullets didn't really work on the ghosts and it wasn't like he could load the automatic with rock salt. He wondered how Hannings could manage to hide in such a place as this…wasn't salt supposed to keep all creatures of the night outside?

With a sigh, Dean realised he was pretty much unarmed where Hannings was concerned. Better move then. He made it as far as twenty yards when he saw a shadow coming out from behind one of the pillars not so far ahead of him. Dean quickly turned and ducked into the next corridor, holding his breath as he waited for the shadow to come, followed by Hannings. He waited a full minute but there was nothing and he took a shallow breath, willing his heart to beat a little slower. With gritted teeth, he decided to take the passage he was in, instead of risking the one he came from. He pulled away from the wall, momentarily missing its support as his vision swam, but he quickly adjusted and his steps quickened. Dean wasn't outright running, but he was as close to it as he was capable, when he felt the warning sensation. It came too late.

A hand grabbed at his collar and suddenly he was in the air, his legs flailing uselessly, searching for the ground. He grunted and turned his head, trying to see who had snatched him, even though he already knew.

''Gotcha!'' came the satisfied shout from behind and Dean suddenly thought he knew how earthquake victims felt, when the tall ghost shook him in the air as if he was a misbehaving puppy. Dean knew that being smacked with newspaper wasn't really what Hannings had in mind when he said with a growl, ''It's not nice to hide from your Daddy, son. I need to teach you a lesson.''

And all Dean could think was 'God, Sammy, where are you?'

xxx

Sam was standing before the mine's main entry that was boarded up with several planks of wood. All of the boards were plastered with warning notices, attempting to dissuade anyone foolish enough to even think of trying to enter. Sam pointedly ignored them, already knowing he was going to go in. If he had read the plans correctly, the entry led straight to the main shaft, which went as deep as six hundred feet, though the tunnels and chambers were positioned some four hundred feet under the surface. To his knowledge, there was only one other exit and that was the outlet shaft, but the plans said that it was closed up a little more permanently than the entry. The guy at the land registry from where he had obtained the maps said that there was a landslide some ten years ago that buried it, so that meant there was only one way to go in and out. As he got out a charcoal stick and started drawing symbols on the wood, Sam was unsure if that was a good or bad thing. It would all depend on their luck.

With a sigh, Sam looked down into his father's journal and re-checked the symbols, knowing that even a slight slip could make a difference. He had found the symbols just last night when he couldn't sleepbut somehow had forgotten to mention them to Dean. They were supposed to bind a ghost to its current location, though it worked only if the place was closed and all the exits were covered. Sam thought it was worth trying it out,after all, what was more closed up than the underground mines?

Finishing the drawing he deftly scrambled under one of the planks and found himself in total darkness. Prepared for it, Sam turned on the flashlight and swept it from side to side to see what he was about to get himself into. There was nothing special, only a platform and of course the deep shaft below. Sam gulped when the light from the torch slid that way and showed him the darkness below. The elevator was nowhere to be seen and he was afraid to think about how short lived his rescue mission would be if the elevator wasn't working. There was no other way to get down, unless he decided to take the risk of trying to climb down, without any climbing gear, and little chance of help if he got stuck.

With a quick fingers-crossed prayer, he hit the call button for the elevator and waited. One second, then two. There was no sound, no motion. The mechanism looked dead.

''God-dammit!'' Sam cursed and with all his might thumped the call button, to no avail.

''That won't help,'' a small voice from behind said. Sam spun around, the flashlight in one hand and snatching up the loaded shotgun with the other.

''Dean?'' he exclaimed, blinking in the light, then shook his head. No, this wasn't his brother. The kid looked a lot like him, but the light from the torch revealed the shorter cut hair and the slightly taller figure and the more haunted eyes. Still, he knew this boy.

''Calum?'' this time he got a nod in reply and maybe a small smile. ''What... what are you doing here?''

''I thought I was hiding.''

''But he found you,'' Sam added with a frown, remembering his earlier vision. Calum gave him an appraising look, before nodding once again. ''Why was he chasing you?''

A shrug so much like Dean's that it made his stomach flinch was Calum's answer.

''I don't know anymore. It never mattered.''

''Why did you try to hide here of all places?'' Sam was incredulous about Calum's choice of hideout.

''I knew the mines. Before... before mom died, my father worked here. He used to bring me with him. Then they closed it up, to let the salt grow and the dome to restore.''

''What happened?''

''The water came. I was trying to run for the elevator, but I slipped and then I couldn't breathe and it was so cold... too cold,'' Calum whispered in a trembling voice.

''I'm sorry,'' Sam said but felt the urge to move, to find Dean. ''Did you... did you see my brother? His name's Dean and he looks just like you.''

''He's down in one of the chambers.''

''Is he okay?'' Sam quickly asked and felt his heart leap when he saw the downcast look and the nervous shuffling.

''My father's with him.''

''Shit!'' Sam once again hit the button for the elevator, startling Calum so much that he jumped.

''I... I'm sorry. I just wanted to talk with someone. I didn't mean to hurt him. I'm sorry.''

''No, it's not your fault,'' Sam said, trying to calm down though it was impossible. But scaring away his only chance to save Dean would be a stupid thing to do. ''Can you help me?''

''How?'' Calum asked eagerly.

''I need to get down, find Dean. Can you somehow make the elevator work? I mean, it must've worked for your father to get Dean down there. Or is there some other way?''

''No, this is the only one. I am not sure if I can though...''

''Please... just try,'' Sam pleaded and watched as the boy nodded, then vanished. He held his breath for a minute, until the small form reappeared, looking almost smug.

''I think I can do it,'' Calum said with a grin that quickly turned into grimace. ''But he will know about it.''

''That's okay. Maybe he will leave Dean alone. Can you get to him while I try and deal with your father?''

A hesitant shrug was all he needed.

''Tell him I'm coming and that he should try and get to the main shaft. And Calum?'' The boy looked at him, expectantly. ''Thanks.''

Sam was rewarded by another smile, when something behind him came to life and the elevator started moving. As Calum once again vanished, Sam prepared his gun.

xxx

''How many... times... did I tell you... not to run... from me?'' Hannings snarled, punctuating his words with an unseen fist. Dean couldn't stop the grunt of pain as one of the blows landed just a little close to his already bruised kidney. He tried to get away, to fight back, but Hannings effectively pinned his arms behind his back when he pushed him against the wall. Being kept in the air also insured that Dean didn't have any leverage for his legs. He didn't have any choice but to take it and hope that old Joe didn't escalate his 'lesson' into more than a average 'beat the crap out of you' type one.

''This is how you repay me for all the years I lost taking care of your dumb ass?'' This time the fists were thankfully replaced by open handed slaps, which weren't any less humiliating, but at least didn't cause so much physical damage. Dean still saw stars when the third slap landed on his left cheek. Whoever said turn the other cheek was obviously nuts. If Dean had any chance, he would repay every blow he got, not because he was harmed, but because he knew that Calum had had to take much more, and for most of his life. He needed to be avenged, even if it meant that Dean would have to take few hits of his own.

Finally, when the beating seemed to be subsiding, Dean managed to croak out a reply through his split lips.

''I'm not your son, you sadistic bastard,'' and he spat a mouthful of blood into Hannings face. For a second the spectre looked positively surprised, so much so that his hold on Dean loosened. Now having some space to move his hands, Dean touched the butt of his gun and pulled it out. He didn't have much space to move, but he gathered his energy and in one swift motion twisted out of Hannings grasp, landing on his feet with a grunt. Before Hannings even realised it, Dean fired three rounds into his chest.

Even if bullets didn't hurt ghosts, it sure as hell wasn't a pleasant feeling for them Dean surmised, as he saw the grimace on Hannings face. He started backing away, slowly emptying the rest of the clip into the apparition, causing it to flicker momentarily. Every time the bullet hit the mark, Dean heard an angry hiss. Each time, he knew he was making the thing madder, but he didn't really care.

''You will pay for this, you little-'' Hannings growled once the gun clicked on empty. He started advancing on Dean with a murderous look, when he suddenly stopped, cocking his head like a dog listening to something. Narrowing his eyes he looked at Dean and with only a slight nod sent him flying several yards across the chamber. Dean landed in a heap and was close to blacking out, when Hannings leaned over him and whispered: ''Stay here. I need to take care of something before I can deal with you.'' And he was gone.

Dean let out a sigh and closed his eyes. When he opened them a second or an hour later, a small figure was leaning over him with a concerned gaze.

''You're back,'' Dean mumbled wearily and tried to get up, but wobbled and almost fell, panting and trying to control the pain that raged through his body. All he wanted was to lie down and sleep, but he knew that was the last thing he could do.

''Are you okay?'' Calum asked, his voice a mere whisper and Dean smirked in reply, his hand brushing the blood away from his lips, but managing to smear it over the rest of his face.

'Just peachy. Nice o' you ta stop by, Calum. I though' you a'ready skipped town,'' Dean smirked, sounding just a little drunk because of his mashed lips.

''I didn't mean to...'' Calum quickly replied, almost offended, but stopped when Dean waved him off.

''Hey, don't sweat it. Kinda got to wonder how you managed to survive so long though. You must've been a tough kid.''

Calum blushed.

''I was a coward. Should've said something. Should've stopped him.''

''Well, you still can stop him,'' Dean muttered and shook his head, trying to clear it of the fuzziness that Joe's 'lesson' had caused, only to wince when the move sent his surroundings into motion.

''How?'' Calum asked, sounding surprised.

''You have to... confront him.''

''I don't... I can't,'' the boy stuttered, shaking his head. ''I can't fight him. He's much stronger than me.''

''I didn't mean it that way,'' Dean huffed, feeling too tired and beat up to sugarcoat it. ''You were running from him your whole life, Calum. You died for Christ's sake, and that bastard continued with his sick game, killing a whole family. If you don't stop him now, he will kill someone else.'' He didn't need to add that it was probably going to be him.

''He's so much stronger,'' Calum said with fear, and for a second Dean couldn't help but feel the need to protect him like he did Sam. He almost said that it was okay, that he didn't have to do it if he didn't want to but Dean's training kicked in and he heard his own father telling him that he had to suck it up and do what needed to be done. It might be his homework or a dangerous gig; he just had to suck it up, for the family's sake…for Sammy.

''You have to do it, Calum. Now or later, it doesn't matter. But you will have to face him, or he'll haunt you forever.''

''I know,'' was the silent reply and Dean nodded, accepting it.

''Now can you tell me where the hell the exit is before Daddy dearest makes another appearance and finishes what he started?''

At that comment Calum's face blanched and Dean had a ridiculous thought, wondering if it was possible for a ghost to pass out. He hoped not.

''Oh shit,'' Calum cursed and threw Dean an apologetic glance. Dean didn't like it.

''What?''

''Your brother. He's in the elevator coming after you. He said you should try and get to the main shaft.''

''You're telling me this now?'' Dean shouted with wide eyes. Sam was here, he thought and didn't know if he should be happy or pissed as hell. Momentarily he was both. ''Where's the main shaft?''

''I'll show you. We must hurry though. I think my father already knows he's here.''

This time Dean knew how he felt. He was terrified and angry as hell. He had to get there in time. He needed Sam alive, even if it was only to kill him later for pulling such a stupid stunt.

xxxxxxxxx

The 8-person elevator was unnervingly slow and Sam felt rather nervous. It was really a wonder it even worked and Sam had to grit his teeth at every creak it made, grabbing for the handrail every time the elevator slightly rocked. It definitely wasn't a good place to confront a pissed off ghost, Sam realised the moment Hannings appeared on the other side of the lift, growling like a mad bear. But Sam wasn't to be scared off easily. He pointed the shotgun at Hannings chest and shook his head in warning. Hannings only laughed, a wet, unpleasant sound, then lunged at Sam.

''I don't think so,'' Sam uttered before pulling the trigger. The rock salt hit Hannings in the chest where his heart should've been and the ghost gave a surprised wail as he landed on the elevator floor. ''You better hope I find my brother alive, or I swear I will haunt you to hell and back,'' Sam rasped and pulled out his father's journal with the banishing spell. He wasn't sure if it would work, he needed more than just words, but right now it would have to do. He started to read in Latin and watched with satisfaction as Hannings started writhing in pain on the floor. Sam didn't realise that the elevator was stopping, arriving to its destination. He wasn't ready for the jolt when it settled and he lost his balance, the text momentarily forgotten as he tried to keep both the gun and the journal in his hands.

The precious seconds till he managed was enough for Hannings to recover. Before Sam even realised the spook was moving, the gun was kicked out of his hand, closely followed by the journal.

''Now who's gonna go to hell?'' Hannings spat and threw Sam out of the elevator. ''Huh? Who's going to hell?'' he shouted and with a move of his hand sent Sam sprawling across the floor.

''You are, you son of a bitch,'' Sam shouted back as his hand grabbed the fallen shotgun, flipping it around towards the ghost and pulling the trigger.

xxx

Dean thought his heart would split in two when he saw Sam flying out of that damn elevator. He dredged up the last of his reserves as he tried to get to his brother, not caring how painful his gait was. Sammy was in danger and he had to help, even if the only way was to make him self a more likely target…if it would only save Sam. He was so focused on the rescue that he didn't even notice the shotgun in his brother's hands until he heard the shot and saw Hannings recoil in pain. But when did something go easily for them? The single shot couldn't keep the ghost down for long and he was once again on his feet, this time livid with rage. He grabbed at Sam with both hands, clutching his neck.

''D-dean, the journal! You have to... read it!'' Sam managed to push out through his lips, before Hannings cut off his supply of air. Dean was torn between lunging at the ghost or going for the journal, but his decision was made for him when a small figure hurled in and jumped on Hannings back, screaming blue murder. Dean scrambled for the journal and started reading. He didn't know where Sam ended so he had to start from the beginning. It wasn't easy, he had to blink in the dim light coming from the corridor and his father's handwriting combined with the Latin didn't make it easy reading. While he fumbled with the words, Sam was released from Hannings clutches, and currently he was trying to get some air into his oxygen deprived lungs.

As for the ghost, he was too occupied trying to get his son off his back. Calum clung to him like a leech, a deep wail coming from his throat.

''Get off me you stupid-'' Hannings started but didn't finish as Dean reached the passage where Sam left off, and Hannings fell to the floor, writhing. Encouraged, Dean's voice rose as he finished the banishing spell.

''Now what?'' he frowned, and looked at Sam. Hannings was still there. Although experiencing high discomfort, he was still alive in his own way. Sam had recovered from the oxygen loss and scrambled to his feet, stumbling over to Dean and shooting him a worried glance before looking back at Hannings.

''It should've worked. I don't understand, Dean. His remains were buried, cremated even. This spell should've cut all his earthly bonds.''

''Not all,'' Dean muttered, his eyes pausing on Calum, who was watching his father with a mix of fear and hate. He felt Dean's eyes on his back and looked up at him. For a moment neither of them moved. Then Dean saw something change. The fear was replaced by courage and acceptance. A small nod was all he got.

''You need to leave now,'' Calum spoke, his tone calm.

''We can't just go-'' Sam started to protest, when he heard a distant rumbling and felt the earth shake.

''What the hell is that?'' Dean asked, perturbed.

''Please, you need to go,'' this time there was urgency in Calum's voice and Sam suddenly knew what was coming. He remembered it from his vision and he sure as hell didn't want to repeat the experience. Grabbing his brother's shoulder, he pulled Dean towards the elevator.

''What?'' the 'younger' Winchester protested, not understanding why Sam had the sudden urge to leave.

''Dean, water,'' Sam warned and nodded towards the chamber Dean came from, even as he was pushing the button and the elevator started its slow ascent. That was when Dean saw the mass of water, flooding the corridors and heading right at them.

''Oh shit,'' he said even as he felt the cold liquid rush through his feet. They were still too low…the water would reach them!

''Hang on!'' Sam shouted even as he practically pinned Dean to the handrail, shielding him with his own body. The spray of water made it impossible to see, but somehow both brothers knew that Hannings was still laying on the floor, his son kneeling next to him as the water filled the mines.

Dean couldn't breathe. His face was pressed against his brother's chest, the rail painfully digging into his back, when the water ran over them. The cold seeped into his bones and he wasn't sure if it was himself that was shaking or the elevator. He didn't care. All that he cared about was the body pressed against his, the feel of the chest moving, breathing. Of someone speaking. That's when he realised that there was air and that he could breathe again. For the first time in his life he didn't protest when Sam scooped him up into his arms and carried him out of the elevator, out of the mines. He was asleep before the afternoon sun could warm his wet skin.

xxx

Why was it every time he woke up in the last few days, it was with a headache and generally feeling like crap? Dean didn't know but he was sure he should find out and repay the bastard for it. Oh wait, he did…or did he? Feeling a little confused by the events his memory was replaying, Dean willed his heavy eyelids to open. It was harder than he thought and he grunted when he finally managed to take a look at his surroundings. It was too bright for his liking, and way too quiet. Dean frowned.

He recognized the motel room, the one in Pendleton. He was particularly glad he wasn't back in the hospital, knowing that blacking out on his baby brother probably wasn't the best way to assure him of his health. The thought of Sam prompted him to raise his head and take a better look around. He couldn't believe his brother would've left him alone after what happened, not until he was awake. Feeling the familiar fear creeping up, Dean slowly turned and let out a sigh when he saw Sam resting on the next bed, the bedside lamp still turned on, even though there was already daylight creeping through the window. The laptop was haphazardly balancing in his brother's lap, the monitor long black. Dean had to grin at the image, even though he knew Sam must've been up most of the night, waiting for him to wake up.

Feeling the pressing urge to go to the bathroom, Dean wondered just how long he had been out of it. He carefully scrambled out of the bed, mindful of all the bruises. Even so, it hurt to move and his progress was annoyingly slow. He tried to be quiet though and was glad when the bathroom door finally closed, without waking up Sam. Taking care of business, Dean washed his hands, then leaned over the sink and splashed his face. He looked into the mirror, surveying the damage. His lips were split and puffy, but as he ran his tongue inside his mouth, he was relieved to find that there weren't any broken or chipped teeth, thank god for that. There was also a visible handprint on his face and a rather nasty looking bruise over his left eye. Apparently he'd received no permanent injuries and Dean gave himself a half grin in the mirror. Then he blinked.

''Sam!''

Sam leapt out of the bed, the laptop toppling over and clasping shut. For a second he didn't know what woke him, he only saw the other bed was empty.

''Dean?'' he cried out and rushed to the bathroom, kicking the door open with such force it almost hit him in the face bouncing back off the wall, only to find Dean, standing half naked before the mirror, laughing like an idiot.

But he was an adult idiot, Sam realised.

''You're back!'' he exclaimed, and he started grinning, too.

''Dude, you could've just turned the knob. No need to break the door,'' Dean snickered and Sam shook his head in disbelief.

''Next time don't scream like a girl,'' Sam advised him with sparkling eyes and got an offended look in reply.

''I don't scream like a girl, I never did and I never will,'' Dean said, sounding for all his efforts like the nine year old. Sam was about to point it out, when Dean gave him a warning glare. This time he backed off.

''Whatever, dude. Just get dressed, please.'' When Dean rolled his eyes, Sam retreated to the room, leaving him alone. Dean turned back to the mirror and quirked his eyebrows, then smiled.

''Oh yeah, little brother. I am definitely back.''

Epilogue

''So, are you sure Hannings is gone?'' Dean asked a little nervously. It was almost two days after the events in the mine, one day from when Dean got back to his proper age. He was still annoyed by the fact that his injuries didn't vanish with the nine-year-old Dean, but they hadn't, so he was stuck with them. He wasn't sure what was more annoying though – the pain, or the constant fussing of his baby brother. Probably both.

''You're back to your old self, aren't you?'' Sam replied to the question and took the lead, when he thought Dean was going off the track. They were once again in the forest, this time heading for Susan Stockhart's cabin. They wanted to tell her what had happened, as well as get a few answers. The events in the mines were still a little fuzzy for Dean. It wasn't like he didn't remember them; he just couldn't quite understand what had happened, although it all became much clearer once Sam found that article about the accident in the mines.

''I still can't imagine how it could happen. I mean... I saw those pillars and they were huge. No way a little water could wash them out.''

''Well it wasn't just a little water, Dean. It was raining a lot that year and the rivers were full. The underground water found it's way into one of the lowest chambers and flooded it. It was a tragedy that Calum choose that place to hide. If he had chosen a chamber at a higher level, he could've been still alive.''

''Or not,'' Dean mumbled. ''Hannings would've killed him sooner or later.''

Sam didn't comment on that. He thought about how Hannings, crazy as he was, managed to pull the boy's body out before the supporting pillars were milled out and the roof collapsed, closing off the dome. It was a pity the boy's soul was trapped inside.

''So you're saying that the water in which we almost drowned was only some psychic play?'' Dean asked bluntly, having maybe the biggest problem comprehending that last part of their rescue.

''Yeah, kind of.''

''So we wouldn't have drowned at all? There was no threat?''

''No, the threat was real enough. You remember that case with The Hangman? All the victims had rope burns around their necks, all the signs that they were hung, but they were found in their own beds, on the water, the backseat of a car. There was no rope, but their minds thought it was real. So they died. Down in the mines it was the same. We would've drowned.''

''But Hannings was already dead,'' Dean argued, unable to let the topic slide.

''So?'' Sam only shrugged. ''Calum just made him see and feel what he experienced, how he died. That combined with the banishing spell was enough to convince Hannings that he was indeed dead.''

''He deserved a worse death,'' Dean snarled and Sam shot him a look.

''I think this was bad enough Dean,'' he said quietly, remembering his vision, the terrifying incapacity to take a breath. He wouldn't wish it on anyone.

They walked in silence then, each lost in their own thoughts until they arrived at the cabin. They noticed the changes almost instantly. There was nothing too visible, just the grass being a little taller and the windows darker. There was dirt on the porch and dust. When they knocked on the door, it opened with a creak, a gaping hole showing where the lock had been. The brothers looked at each other, already knowing they wouldn't find any answers, just more questions. As they walked in, the dust rose and Dean coughed, while his brother tried hard not to sneeze…unsuccessfully.

''Are you sure we're at the right cabin?'' Dean asked cheekily and Sam glared at him.

''There are no other cabins. I checked the map. We're in the right place.''

''Well then, care to explain?'' Sam only shrugged and walked over to the hearth that was in the living room. There was only a photograph lying there, without a frame. Sam picked it up and sighed.

''No dust,'' he stated as his finger trailed the surface.

''Who's in it?'' Dean asked even as he was looking over Sam's shoulder.

''Susan Amely Stockhart,'' Sam breathed out as he turned the photograph and read the name written there.

''Dude, there's only Susan,'' Dean said, then paused and his eyes got wide with the realisation. ''Damn it, it was her all the time, wasn't it? She knew the whole time what was going to happen, she probably jinxed me just as we set foot in town.'' Dean shook his head in disbelief and Sam started laughing.

''Dude, what's so funny?'' Dean frowned, a little hurt that his brother could laugh at his expense.

''Oh boy, I am so glad it wasn't me,'' was all Sam managed before the hand smacked him upside his head. 'But I am even more glad that you're back, big brother,' he thought when he saw a matching grin on Dean's face.

THE END


End file.
